


Once More Unto The Breach

by CandidCantrix



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, F/F, Helmsman, Violence, mentioned temporary character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:29:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3098240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandidCantrix/pseuds/CandidCantrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Terezi Pyrope, a seasoned Legislacerator, finds herself in a shitpile of trouble on an imperial battleship. Includes rebels, helmsmen, ghosts, and past decisions doing a mobius double reacharound in order to come back and bite her squarely in the ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [isozyme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isozyme/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: "I just read Ancillary Justice and it gave me a strong hankering for operatic space politics. I would love adult Vriska and Terezi in space, grinding the gears of the Alternian Empire. I particularly like ghosts in space, helmsmen, cramped shuttles, cavernous holds, and ruthless captains. Cameos from any other characters you care to add in would also be great!"
> 
> To isozyme: I hope this has everything you were looking for! Confession time: partway through planning I decided to look at some of your fics, and realised I'd coincidentally come up with a point in common with one of your works. Which...isn't so coincidental, I suppose, given that I was trying to write this to your tastes. Anyway! I think I went on a different slant with it, but just call that section a tribute :)

There's nothing like the first step into an investigation area. Admittedly, the Battleship Eradicrusher isn't a crime scene, not yet. But the night is still young! In your profession, it is always best to be both vigilant and optimistic, as you never know when you might find someone committing a crime. You've had cases where even the suspect didn't realise they were committing a crime, mostly with minor offences such as smelling bad, whining, and overly impudent behaviour. You cannot be fooled by simple tears and denial, though occasionally you decide to show lenience.  


The airlock door from the space station chimes, then whirrs open. You stroll over the threshold and your boot lands with a satisfying THUNK on the steel floor. All your footwear is specially heeled for sounding an entrance.  


It seems half the officers have gathered in the reception to greet you. The space is far too small to support a good welcoming committee, so they're all backed up against the bulkheads and trying to stand to attention with their faces pressed into the back of their superiors' heads, or someone shuffling back onto their toes. Even the captain is there, in the semi-circle of space left to her. You find the whole thing hilarious. Once, when you'd just become an adult and got your rank, a swanky dual helm ship like the Eradicrusher might have given you a single lowblood ensign to show you to your quarters, while everyone else concentrated very hard, elsewhere, on not becoming a part of your investigation. These days, your reputation precedes you!  


...or so you'd like to think, but even you'll admit that no-one wants to look unwelcoming to an agent of Her Imperial Condescension, not even one as low as teal. Not lately. That's the sort of crime you can't run from.  


You grin in a way that puts absolutely no-one at ease, and fill your lungs with filtered air as you get a good sniff of the captain. She is a blueblood, confused, and completely terrified of you. It's already a good start to the investigation.  


"Legislacerator," she says. "Captain Marlet, at your service. Welcome to the Battleship Eradicrusher."  


You flash a few teeth when you smile, just to smell her flinch.  


The officers flatten themselves against the sides to make a gap, and she guides you down the corridor. You've smelled it all a thousand times before. The insides of imperial battleships are built with military sameness, each as gray and dull as the hives on Alternia, but with a nasty metallic aftertaste. You'd normally consider it inexcusable. However, you grudgingly accept the cherry red lights and posters plastered on the bulkheads as compensation. Even the rebels can't deny the deliciousness of imperial propaganda!  


At least it makes a change from all the space stations you've been on recently. You hopped from Station Alternia to Station Twinmoon to Station Excelsior before you got your orders to rendezvous with the Eradicrusher at Station Splendificent. You've spent most of the last week in cafes, sniffing out petty crimes, with one fun day where you met up with Nepeta and chased down a pickpocket in the area. It was payment for a sweep ago when she'd been bounty hunting a renegade subjugglator, and you helped her track and immobilize him. You'd both agreed to do it again sometime, but somehow it'd never really happened. It's hard to keep the few friends you have left when you're hunting criminals all over the galaxy, though it's better than the pre-Rebellion days when Legislacerators were confined to courtblocks.  


No, you honestly don't mind being posted to a ship, apart from the helmsmen.  


You try to avoid the helmsmen.  


"Now you're aboard, we'll start heading for the coordinates in the brief," says Captain Marlet. "If your intelligence is correct, we should encounter the rebel ship in around 20 hours."  


Her voice is steady, but you can smell her sweat in the air. It's almost covering up the steel gray.  


"You, ah, wanted to have a private briefing with me before launch, Legislacerator?"  


"I have top secret and confidential information for you," you say. "I was told these secrets were to be trusted with only the most discreet and superior of officers, but it's clear that you are the troll for the job."  


You weren't sure if she'd be a gossiper, but the way she blurts, "Of course, Legislacerator!" and preens tells you that her pride can be relied on.  


You turn left at an intersection, towards the deck where officers' quarters are normally located. You assume she's leading you to her office. A few crew members pass you by, all attempting to casually avoid you, with success depending on the size of their horns and their desperation. One, a little tealblood in an engineering uniform, almost walks into you before ducking away, as if by not meeting your eyes she can somehow escape your nose.  


The temperature is a lot nicer than what you're used to from previous ships. They're usually kept at an indigo-to-violet-appropriate chilliness, but this one is just pleasantly cool. A perk of having a cobalt ranking officer, you guess.  


You stroll past a wall console that seems to be spitting sparks. Marlet winces.  


"We should have replaced that back at the station, but apparently it comes out of conquest spoils, not official budget. I swear, they'll squeeze us for every penny... meaning no offence to Her Imperial Condescension, of course!" The captain's eyes widen as she cuts herself off in the middle of what seems to be a usual rant.  


"I think there's cause to be merciful this time," you reply. Honestly, you don't like exercising your full legislacerative powers over things like speech crimes, thought crimes, or the recently-created "looking shifty enough to commit thought crimes". It's tricky keeping up with new developments in the law, and evidence is such a hassle.  


The captain lets out a squawk of a laugh, sounding like a squashed cluckbeast. "Of course, I wouldn't presume to doubt the mercy of the administration! It's our fault if our spoils aren't large enough... not that we haven't been doing our utmost to secure funds for the empire!" She shepherds you down another section. "It's just with the anti-rebel action... and our latest conquests haven't been as profitable as hoped." The captain sighs. "I'm beginning to suspect the natives start destroying any valuables before we get there."  


You make your way into the officer section. There are no broken consoles here, and far fewer people. A cleaning drone scuttles past you, humming when it encounters a wall to be polished. Eventually, you come to a door with Marlet's name and sign engraved to the side, underneath which is a codepad. She punches in a string of numbers. Her office has a soft floor, possibly from specially cultivated fungus, and blue furnishings that are incredibly plush. There should probably be a word to sum up just how plush they are, perhaps a phrase involving coins and the bouncing of, but you know nothing about that. What you do notice is that everything is just a little bit faded, a little bit worn. Possibly decorated in richer times.  


Captain Marlet shows you to a chair that you are inclined to declare almost dangerously comfortable, and you sink into the cushions never to be retrieved. She sits down across from you, stands, then thinks better and sits down again.  


"Your information... " she says. "Does it concern the rebels we're going to fight?"  


"Sort of," you say. "We need to talk about their ships."  


You pull the datapad on her desk towards you. A few unreasonably long passwords and cunning security questions later, and you have Legislacerative access to the Imperial net. You log in on your own account and pull up the full briefing on your case, giving the screen a quick lick to make sure you have the right file. Well, mostly to check you have the right file. The image on screen is a bright red battleship, and you see no reason to deny yourself.  


"Do you recognize this ship?" you say, turning the datapad to face the captain. She squints through the smear of saliva.  


"That's the Devastriker, isn't it?" she says. "Wasn't it badly damaged about a week ago?"  


"Not damaged," you say, "Lost."  


"Lost?"  


You raise an eyebrow. "That's what I said."  


"But... how does a battleship get lost?"  


"The communication lines went down," you say, "and it never reached the rendezvous point. There was no sign of debris either. We think it might have been stolen!"  


Even you can't help but be impressed by the thought of such audacity. You have to cough back a grin, schooling yourself into your serious face for serious business.  


"I see," says Marlet. "I must admit, I wondered why simple anti-rebel combat required input from the Legislacerators... but I wouldn't want anyone to think I doubted the wisdom of the administration, of course."  


"Your scepticism was correct! Just what I'd expect of someone in such an important position of authority," you say, and she relaxes. "But there's more."  


"More?"  


"About a perigee before the Devastriker disappeared, another ship went missing."  


"Really? Which one?"  


"The name hasn't been released," you tell her. "Even I don't know it! Everything about this is being kept secret under pain of extremely violent culling."  


"I... I understand, Legislacerator."  


"However, because you're trustworthy, I can tell you it was a brand new design. It vanished on its shakedown cruise. The investigators found a distress call which mentioned a serious fault with the engine helm, so at first they blamed mechanical failure."  


"But now... they think that was stolen too?"  


You lean forwards. "What do you know about the Devastriker, captain?"  


"Well, it's modelled very similarly to the Eradicrusher, isn't it? Another dual helm ship, though I believe their battle helm is a little different. The Eradicrusher had one of the first battle helms, you know, she only channels chipped crewmembers. I think the Devastriker channels lusii or something."  


"Correct! And the test ship was also a dual helm type battleship. So you see, we're looking veeery closely at the dual helm ships right now."  


"But you can't think -!" Marlet says, then coughs. "I assure you, Legislacerator, you'll find no hint of sedition here. Our battle helm makes it impossible."  


"Impossible?" you reply. "Crime is never impossible, captain!"  


She fiddles with a spike on her left horn. "Well yes, but... the lowbloods, I mean. All of our crew below olive are constantly monitored. If any of them turned out to be rebels we'd shut them down immediately, and they know it."  


"What about the psychically immune?"  


"We don't have any. Every single lowblood here is tested for integration capacity and then chipped. The psychic array stops the battle helmsman from controlling unchipped trolls, but also directs the force with greater strength into those that are. It's impossible to resist, and you can't remove a chip without performing major brain surgery."  


"Hmm," you say. "Then maybe we should be investigating the officers!"  


The captain takes in a sharp breath. Her fingers tremble on the datapad.  


"I... I apologise, Legislacerator. Was that a joke?"  


"The prosecution never jokes," you tell her. "Except for well-judged moments of necessary hilarity."  


"I see," she says. She puts her hands in her lap. "Of course, you're entitled to investigate whoever you wish... but I must say, I've served with my subordinates for three sweeps now, and I've never seen any signs... "  


"Would you vouch for them?"  


She opens her mouth, then hesitates. "Well, I wouldn't go that far... but why don't I show you our helms instead? If it's the system you're interested in."  


You want to decline, particularly under the circumstances. That sort of blatant subject-changing is of course a very suspicious sign, and you consider whether it's worth calling her on it. However, you smell nothing more in her words than simple and understandable self-preservation, and at the moment you'd rather have her think of you as a potential threat than an actual one. Nervous people have all kinds of uses, including entertainment, but frightened ones tend to get you involved in high-speed hivetop chases with weapons.  


Captain Marlet leads you out and back through the hallways. The two sets of footsteps echo off the metal floor. Yours are measured in your awesome boots: heel-toe, clank-CLANK. The captain scurries ahead of you at twice the speed. "I'll give you the full tour afterwards, and then you can feel free to go anywhere you like, Legislacerator," she says, as if you weren't entitled to go everywhere anyway, and possibly more inclined to snoop if you weren't.  


She takes you to the Engine Helm, where they have some poor rustblood strung up with a mass of bubblegum tendrils, twitching slightly in time with the flashes on the psychic array bolted to his head.  


"This is our standard helmsman," she says, "powers the engines and controls most of the ship's systems. We used to keep it fully conscious at all times, for maximized performance, but it wasn't worth all the personality echoes on the display screens. Now we tend to keep it half-under on a low-level tranq drip, and boot it back up to full before a battle."  


She lets you poke at the computer for a while. You don't find anything out of the ordinary, but then you don't really expect to. Still, all avenues of investigation must be exhausted. Eventually, you give up and follow the captain outside. She takes you a little way down the corridor to a similar door, and enters a code onto the pad beside it. You smell which letters her fingers cover up. The door opens.  


"This is the battle helm," Marlet announces, some pride coming back into her voice. "It's one of the systems we run through the Engine Helm. Using this, we can control over 400 lowbloods, and even monitor their thoughts. In the event of a ground battle, I can broadcast commands and have them obeyed instantly. And questioning orders is simply a thing of the past."  


The room is mostly as you'd expect. It's not your first time seeing a battle helmsman. They need more fine control than an engine helmsman, so they don't tend to be quite as hooked into the ship, but they're connected similarly by gooey strands around their limbs. They even have the same psychic array attached to their heads, for amplifying and directing the fields.  


This helmsman is even more familiar than usual. You smell blueberry on the torso.  


Marlet gestures at the monitor. "Most ships leave their battle helms off, but we like to fully utilize our equipment. Since the first rebel attack, we've had it booted up around the clock with orders to take suitable action if it detects any chipped crewmember acting treasonously. As you can see, it's fully conscious right now."  


You go through the appropriate screens on the monitor, but you're not really smelling any of it. Your attention keeps straying.  


Next to you, the captain is talking into her wrist communicator. "Acknowledged. Marlet out." She turns to you. "I'm afraid I'll have to go back to the bridge soon, but are there any other restricted areas you'd like to see first, Legislacerator? If not, I can leave you with one of my officers. I can assure you of their capabilities. Perhaps you might like to visit our grub farm and lusus hold at some point? Both are particularly well-designed."  


She continues chattering as you both head out, leaving you with a cloud of words to aid her escape. You turn back just before she closes the doors to the Battle Helm. The figure inside lifts its head, the psychic array flashing over its eyes. Half of its mouth, wrenched around a black tube, stretches into a mocking grin.  


You guess it's the closest Vriska Serket can get to a wink.


	2. Chapter 2

Later, they leave you alone in your quarters with your thoughts. Your thoughts are currently rude intruders who keep trying to dredge up bad memories from your stinking mental pool of corpses, and do not make good company. 

The captain did indeed call an officer, a jadeblood with an inferiority complex, who spent half the tour making digs at you and the other half fishing for gossip. You're impressed he had the nerve to blackflirt with a Legislacerator, particularly since you're a bit too teal for most people trying to make a political match, so you decided not to take him down for his comments. The prosecution will not normally be sassed, but makes exceptions in rare cases. However, you weren't in the mood to flirt back. 

The VIP quarters, while not as nice as the VVIP quarters, are about as plush as the captain's office. They're accented in delicious Imperial red, and the smell of the scarlet hangings wafts through the room. Your chair is buttery gold. You take the opportunity to lick it, then sit down. 

Ten minutes later, you stand up, fetch a datapad from across the room, and sit back down again, tasting the drapes on the way. You start reading a legal textbook. 

Five minutes later, you put it down. What you need, you decide, is a shower. 

You take one. You dry off and check the clock. It's barely turned morning, and it would be a travesty to turn in now. You decide to relax on the extranet. 

Eight minutes later, you start reading up on the ship's schematics. Just out of curiosity. 

You look at the battle helm. 

Two minutes later, you get up and head there. 

There's a single security guard stationed at the end of the corridor. He yawns as you walk past him; you rap his knees with your cane. He jerks and his hand starts towards you, then lets you pass unhindered. He's not paid to challenge Legislacerators or bluebloods, even ones as low as you. 

You stroll right up to the battle helm, enter the same code the captain used earlier, and walk inside. Nothing's changed. It's not like they bother altering the lighting based on time of night, and Vriska won't be shifting positions until the day they finally uninstall her. She's still hung up by her arms and legs. You have a better opportunity to examine her now, though, and unlike with the engine helm, you can smell a fair amount of gray skin beneath the tendrils. There are also fewer cables screwed into her. You're sort of glad about that, and not sure how to feel about the fact that you're glad. 

The lights on the psychic array over her eyes all flash red when you walk in, then go back to blinking. Her mouth twitches. Did she recognize you? Was she trying to control you? It doesn't really matter, you suppose. She never could get in your head, even when she wasn't physically and mentally restrained. 

Though she still found ways to cheat. 

You plonk yourself down, cross-legged, on the floor in front of her. 

"This is your own fault," you tell her. 

If you paid attention, maybe you could smell whatever expression Vriska's wearing right now. A sneer? Regret? But you don't. It's easier to pretend she can't really hear you. By rights your words should echo around her chamber, but the acoustics are lost among the electronics. 

"You were dangerous and nasty and you hurt everyone we knew. You lied to me. You lied to everybody! You were a terrible excuse for a person, and a worse excuse for a friend. You forced me to deal with you. We both know no-one could've stopped you but me," you say. 

Then, quieter. "But I wish I hadn't. So...sorry, I guess." 

Sometimes, you wonder if you should have seen it coming earlier. Vriska had always been dreadful, but then her obsession with Tavros started when you were all about six sweeps old, and it just got worse and worse right up to eight. Occasionally you'd tell her to lay off, but it never took. Honestly, you didn't try that hard. Even Kanaya didn't want to end up as an ashen fill for that mess, and you certainly weren't after Vriska's pale quadrant. Eugh. 

Just... somehow, you never really thought she'd do anything that drastic. Maybe all your impending adulthoods were the catalyst? Or maybe it was inevitable all along. Is there any universe where she didn't push Tavros off a cliff? You doubt it. 

And then there was Aradia, and... yeah. What a depressing shitstorm. 

You smell something familiar on the edge of your nostrils. At first you think it's her uniform. Then you realise the blueberry is coming from the monitor. 

Wow, here I was looking forward to you coming, and all you can do is go on and on about the 8ad memories. On and on and on!

I can't 8elieve I forgot about your self-righteous prattling. H8y, may8e one day I'll learn to be as awesome as Terezi Pyrope, and then I can stick my friends in 8attleships too!

Huh, may8e that's not a 8ad idea.

Hello? Am I talking to myself here????????

S8y something!!!!!!!!

You sit still for a second, just to make sure you smelled what you thought you just smelled. You can't quite work it out. Not the fact that she's still capable of conversation - battle helmsmen require more fine tuning over their psychic powers and less ship integration than an engine helmsman, so less goes into personality suppression. Which probably should have driven her insane, if she's been constantly conscious, but who knows with Vriska? 

What confuses you is how she has a chat display to bring messages up on at all. 

You tilt your head up. There's that black cable fed down her throat, so there's no way she could talk normally. She still shouldn't be able to consciously access the computers. She's basically part of the system herself, and a subordinate one. 

You turn your attention back to the screen, open up a text input window, and start typing back. 

HOW 4R3 YOU DO1NG TH1S? >:?

It's not hard when you have as many irons in the fire as me! That's not a thing that's changed, 8y the way. Me having irons in the fire.

You minimize the text window. The monitor just seems to be a normal diagnostic tool, and all you can smell is charts and read-outs. There are no obvious abnormal readings, but that doesn't surprise you too much. Vriska has to be cheating to send local messages somehow. She was always completely obvious about cheating, just not necessarily about how. 

The screen gets a sudden hit of blueberry. The text window pops back up. 

8y the way, reeeeeeeeal nice reply there.

I was hoping for something a little more friendly after all this time.

"Hey there Vriska, it's only 8een 3 sweeps since we've talked, how are you now you're a 8ATTLESHIP????????"

8ut it's okay, I can 8e the 8igger person here.

After all, I really got you 8ack with the whole 8linding thing! Man, that was hilarious.

I mean, I didn't see it, since I was in hiding at the time, 8ut I heard allllllll about it.

I guess you didn't see much of it either! Lol!

4CTU4LLY, 1T TURN3D OUT R34LLY W3LL FOR M3

1 SHOULD TH4NK YOU >:]

Fine, 8e like that!!!!!!!!

Here I am, putting myself out, trying to 8e friends again, 8ut I guess you just want to throw it all 8ack in my f8ce.

Man, I forgot how insanely annoying you were!!!!!!!!

1 W4S B3ING S3RIOUS

NOT THAT 1D 3XP3CT YOU TO UNDERST4ND >:]

WHY DO YOU W4NT TO B3 FRI3NDS 4G41N?

1 H4D YOU TURNED 1NTO 4 ST4RSH1P

YOU'R3 ST1LL 4 ST4RSH1P!

Sure, 8ut I don't plan on staying that way!

I have so many plans. You wouldn't 8elieve how many plans I've 8een hatching.

I'll cut you in a little if you like. It'll 8e just like old times!!!!!!!!

GO ON TH3N

Joke!

Ha, you really think I'm that dum8? Like I don't know you'd just run to that pathetic captain with them.

May8e l8r, Pyrope!

The chat screen goes black. You sniff at it a while longer and drum your fingers on the side, but nothing more appears. 

She always did have to get the last word in. It's a familiar sort of exasperation you're left with, like a friend who appears in your hive after several sweeps, only to break your husktop and smear jam on the walls. And it's not the only unwelcome houseguest. You remember that old dread weighing on your chest, along with a lot of questions which mostly boil down to "how" and "what now". 

But. A smile creeps up on you. 

Oh, you're _excited_. 

You wait till you're back in the privacy of your own quarters before putting in a direct vidcall to Captain Marlet. 

"Is there a problem, Legislacerator?" she says, yawning and smoothing down her uniform. She flushes bright blue when she realises the top buttons are in the wrong button holes. You must have caught her just before she turned in for the morning. 

"Captain!" you say. "You must be keen to know about the security breach." You smile, aiming for sweetness and almost certainly missing. 

"Security breach?" 

"Well. Possible security breach." 

"What... what are we talking about?" 

"I'm not sure yet," you say, scratching your chin. You like to look like a TV detective hard at thought when you're in the initial stages of a case. "That's what I plan to uncover! By the way, have you ever communicated with the battle helmsman?" 

"With the helmsman? No! Well, I've given it orders, is that what you mean?" 

You hear someone tutting from offscreen. The captain grimaces, but doesn't react otherwise. 

"No," you say. "I mean, have you talked to it?" 

"I... no? I suppose it's possible, there's still a complete brain in there, but we'd have to rig up some sort of feedback device. Maybe limited local network access. Do you want me to ask my engineers?" 

"No," you say again, "But I can tell you that your possible security breach is now looking at least 55% more probable." 

"Wait, the security breach is in the battle helm? Are we safe? Is this what happened to those other ships?" 

"Er," you say. You hadn't made that link yet. It's a bit weird to go from Vriska messaging you about plans to sabotaging two other battleships, but it's not completely out of the realms of possibility when you consider what she's capable of. 

"Maybe," you say. 

"Oh!" she says, and smiles, which is odd given her previous panic. "Does this mean this is urgent? I can go down there myself with a couple of engineers right now if necessary." 

There's a _"Seriously?"_ from the background. 

"No, no!" you say. "After all, you're the captain, and it seems you already have some pretty important things to take care of! I wouldn't want to waste your valuable time. Why don't I take the engineers and investigate the... potential security breach, leaving you free? Tomorrow," you add. Vriska's already been on the ship for three sweeps, and who knows how long it'll take you to figure out what she's talking about. With anyone else, you might wonder if she's got no plans at all, and is simply playing head games with you, but when Vriska brags, it's because there's something up her sleeve. She only bluffs when she's desperate. 

You're fine with bluffing, even to the captain. An intruder affecting the helm could be dealt with, but the helm itself rebelling could only lead to permanent uninstallation. Whatever she's planning, you don't want Vriska dead. If you did, you wouldn't have had her sent here in the first place. 

"Are you sure?" the captain says, still in an odd tone of voice. "If duty calls... " 

_"Oh right, make like you're playing the whole frustrating-me-by-waiting game! You're just cluckbeasting out!"_

The captain's expression snaps to a scowl, and she turns round. "Like hell, and I'd appreciate some professionalism while I'm talking to the Legislacerator, if that's not too much to ask." 

"Ooh," you say. "I smell some delicious licorice tension." 

The captain's shoulders sink down from where they'd stiffened. "My humblest apologies, Legislacerator," she says. "I had my kismesis over when you called." 

"Not that I don't appreciate the hilariousness of being backseat to the captain's black quadrant," you say, "but I have to point out that our conversation was confidential information." 

"Oh, ah, you don't need to worry about that. Lorcan's my first officer, he has the same clearance as I do for anything taking place on this ship. I'd have sent him out otherwise." She frowns. "Though I should probably send him out anyway for behaving inappropriately in front of superiors." 

"I smell plenty of inappropriate behaviour," you say, grinning. You lick your lips and the captain goes even bluer at the obscenity of it. "Oh, one more thing, Captain. You have to shut the battle helm down for now. I'll tell you when you can activate it again." 

"Oh, that's not a problem. It's only really necessary when we use ground forces. It speeds things up a bit in ship-to-ship combat, but we can do without." 

"Excellent," you say. "Well, I'll leave you to your dalliance! See if you can thoroughly disgrace that uniform." Your eyebrows waggle, and stay waggling while she stammers official goodbyes and signs off while being dragged offscreen. 

You go to put the pad down, then stop. Something makes you bring up remote access to the battle helm computers. You're not even sure if it'll work, but you bring up text input and type. 

VR1SK4?

The cursor stays blinking for a good minute, and you're about to close the window when you get a response. 

Yeah?

8ack for more?

JUST THOUGHT 1 SHOULD L3T YOU KNOW

1M GO1NG TO F1ND OUT WH4T YOUR GAM3 1S

4ND 1F 1T C4RR13S TH3 SL1GHT3ST WH1FF OF CR1M1N4L1TY

1M GO1NG TO 3ND 1T >:]

That's what you messaged me for? Some kind of lame posturing?

Well, it'll sure 8e fun to see you try!

Neophyte Redglare, chasing down criminals for real! I'd almost 8e impressed if it wasn't doomed to fail.

UGH

4NYW4Y, YOUR3 GO1NG OFFL1N3 SOON

1 JUST W4NT3D TO T3LL YOU TH4T

N1GHT N1GHT DONT L3T TH3 B3DGRUBS B1T3 >:]

Offline? Ha!

That dum8ass captain keeps me on all the time, she'll neve

The window goes black and closes. You whistle to yourself as you get ready for the recuperacoon.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day you're woken up by a vidcall to your quarters. ID says it's the captain, so you guess turnabout is fair play, but while you change you're still considering whether you can class a rude awakening under an Impertinent Behaviour misdemeanor. 

When you're done, you patch the captain through. 

"Good evening, Legislacerator," she says. 

"Captain," you say. "I hope you've got a good reason for the computer shrieking like a flock of startled cluckbeasts in my ear five minutes ago." 

"Ah, apologies for the alarm setting," she says. "I thought you'd want to know that we've detected a large ship within outer scanner range. We can't confirm the identity yet, but it seems likely to be one of the two we're searching for." 

You are All Business now. "Perfect. When will we reach them?" 

"My navigator estimates 20, 30 minutes before they come into close range. If I might recommend it, there should be a crew issue personal vidscreen on the stand next to your wardrobifier. If you take that today, I can let you know as soon as we find them." 

"Excellent suggestion, captain," you say, strapping it to your arm. It's red. You look forward to sampling its candy-flavoured frame later, possibly when you're bored. 

"Also, you said you'd be investigating the security breach in the battle helm today? I can send a couple of engineers down to you now, if you'd like." 

"Absolutely," you say, smiling. Coming for you, Serket! "I'd like to get this sorted immediately." 

You don't close the pad right away. Instead, you open up a text input window to the battle helm and type a quick, H3Y VR1SK4. The words sit on the screen unanswered, of course. You're not sure what you were expecting. 

There's a chime from your door. Outside is a tealblood about your height, who you sort of remember walking into yesterday, and who shrinks away from you as if you are a ravening cholerbear and she is covered in barbecue sauce. Next to her is a yellowblood loaded down with a stack of tools, propped up partly by his horns. 

You grin at them. The tealblood flinches and the yellowblood fumbles his tools. Your cackling doesn't seem to relax them much either. 

"Come on wigglers, time to work your mysterious technological magic on the battle helm! If you're good, I may award prizes." 

"Yes, Legislacerator!" they say, with a complete lack of synchronisation and enthusiasm. They follow you down the corridor, shedding spanners. 

It's strange going into the battle helmroom again. You're already used to seeing Vriska as a Helmsman - skinnier than ever, strung up, eyes covered with the array - but there's a whole new weirdness to seeing her in offline mode. The array is dark, and she hangs even more limply than before, mouth slack. 

You want to find a writing implement and draw on her face. 

You remind yourself that you are in the middle of an investigation, and even give yourself a stern reprimand which you will of course be duly shamed by. However, you do make a mental note to come back later with all your chalks. 

"Okay, people," you say. "Let's get this case cracked." 

"What case?" asks the tealblood. 

You explain the situation, eventually opening up a drawing program on the nearest datapad and doodling some diagrams. You're particularly proud of the stink lines coming from the battle helm. The engineers are clearly sceptical but far too wimpy to sass you, which works fine, since their only other option is to get on with looking into things. 

"Er, Legislacerator? Couldn't we just... boot the helm up and ask? It'd be a lot quicker." 

You had considered calling the captain beforehand and asking for authorization to boot Vriska up to limited consciousness. She'd be physically conscious, but drugged enough to be docile and detached, likely retreating into her computer integration for her mental framework. It's how most engine helmsmen are kept. You couldn't maintain her like that long-term, not if she needed her judgement for actions like monitoring, but it might make her answer you truthfully. 

You decided against it. Putting her into that state would smack of her brand of cheating and you'd consider it losing if you stooped to it. Also, you don't trust her not to wiggle out of interrogation somehow. No, you'll keep Vriska out of her own investigation as long as possible, and slap her with the full force of the prosecution when you're done. 

"We'll look at the readings first," you say. "We have to do it offline, okay?" 

"But we don't even know what we're looking for!" 

"First, how she's accessing the computers in here to message me. Second, anything weird that's been going on. Third, anything that may be worth holding over her for cooperation or mockery." 

The pair give you weird looks and grumble a bit, but eventually get on with it. You'll drub them with your cane if you catch them slacking. In the meantime, you stand around in the corner of the room. You hope it goes quickly. You can't wait to see her face when you shove a steaming hot plate of evidence in it. 

The captain messages you on your vidscreen. 

"We have the ship in visual range, Legislacerator!" comes a voice from your vidscreen. "Looks like... it's one of ours! Not the Devastriker, though... It's still got construction clamps on, do you think it could be the other one you mentioned?" 

You bring the vidscreen up to your face and give it a good lick to be sure. "Tastes like it, Captain!" you respond. You'd like to go to the bridge and properly smell for yourself, but you need to stay with the battle helm. The captain knows plenty about enemy ships, and you know plenty about Vriska Serket. You hold the vidscreen to your mouth. "Proceed with caution. There may be rebels aboard." 

"Understood," says the Captain. "We'll be coming into close range fairly soon." 

In front of you, one of the engineers seems to be trying desperately to get your attention without speaking to you or looking at your face. 

"Er, Legislacerator?" she says finally. "I don't know if it's what you're looking for, but I've found something a bit weird... I mean, it might be nothing, or something else, but you asked, so..." The yellowblood next to her is not participating in your conversation. He stares down at his own pad, with a gaze that's practically welded to it. 

"Go on," you say. 

"So I checked the channelling logs, and they've been cleared recently - I mean, that's not too weird, they do get cleared from time to time - but I managed to retrieve the old files and I noticed something off. Most people wouldn't notice, if they're not as up on the figures - well, most people wouldn't be able to retrieve old logs in the first place -" 

You yawn. "To the point, please." 

"Well, it's just, we have 432 channelled crew members, but this says the helm was channelling 433. But it might be nothing! I'll check the roster, see if we've had any new transfers recently... " 

"A mystery channelled crew member?" you say. "Well done, tech kid! Now I need you to find out who it is." 

"What? But -" 

There is a scream outside. 

"Just take care of it!" you say, and stride to the helmroom doors. 

You burst out into the corridor, but you can't perceive anything that would cause a scream. In fact, you can't even work out who screamed, since the corridor appears to be empty, until you smell a crumpled heap of troll at the end. You go over and prod at it a bit. It's the security guard, and he seems to have fainted dead away. 

You turn, but there's nothing to chase and no sign of where it went. He could have eaten baked sopor, for all you know. It would be a shame if it resulted in the automatic culling usual for a battleship, but it would explain the case, and you love a good explanation. 

After a moment of hesitation, you grab the guard by his shoulders and haul him over to the bulkhead, propping him up against a doorframe. You pat his face, but there's no response. 

You hear a faint noise through the door. 

The guard is abandoned to flop where you dumped him; you're already up and leaping through the gap of the sliding door. But there's no-one on the other side. It's an empty corridor. 

You tread carefully along it, checking left and right - are all the maintenance hatches still shut? Are there any turn-offs for someone to hide behind? - but there's nothing. Then, on the edge of your nostrils. 

Someone standing at the end of the corridor. 

They're gone. You run. You look to both sides of the intersection, but there's no trace. The air feels empty and cold. 

Your vidscreen chimes. 

"Legislacerator?" says Captain Marlet. "Just to let you know, we're coming into mid sensor range. We're detecting some hull damage on the unidentified ship, and it appears to be running on auxiliary power. I think we can assume damage to the engine helm." 

"Thank you," you say, still scanning the corridor. "By the way, I think you may have an intruder or saboteur on board." 

"What?" 

"Something knocked out your security guard on the helm deck. I chased the suspect, but they got away." 

The captain swears. "I'll send a team down there to sweep the decks." 

"Good idea," you say. "Stay alert." 

You end the call and head back to the battle helmroom. 

"How are we doing?" you ask, as the doors open. 

"What was that scream?" says the yellowblood. 

"Not your problem. Progress report?" 

"Er, yes," says the tealblood. "So, I'm not sure you'll believe this, but I thought I should tell you anyway... so yeah, I cross-referenced the channelled crew in the logs with chip IDs, came up with an unregistered one, but of course, that's not connected to a name anywhere, right? So here's the clever part, I did a ping on it but filtered out all other chips -" 

You smell something moving in the corner of the room. You turn your head, but it's gone. The tech kid is still talking. 

"Er, anyway! I'm not sure how, but it led me to the engine helm." 

You face her fully. "The engine helm? She's channelling the engine helm?" 

"That's impossible," says the yellowblood, peering over his colleague's shoulder. "The battle helm only controls crew members with chips. The psychic array stops it going for anyone else." 

"I know, but I checked it, okay? And pulled up the cameras, and there's no-one else in that room. Unless something's throwing me off... I mean, even if the battle helm was channelling the engine helm - wow, that sounds so weird now I say it out loud - anyway, if it is, I don't get how it could get past the captain's authorization codes," the tealblood says. 

The yellowblood shrugs. "That one's easy. If you've got a hotline straight to the brainware, theoretically you could bypass all the stuff we mortals have to go through." 

"Seriously?" you say. "Couldn't anyone with psychic control get into it, then?" 

"Guys," says the tealblood. 

"Hypothetically," says the yellowblood. "But there's shielding around both helm rooms, you'd have to be in there to keep a connection. You'd need a psychic array to get enough of a boost to control it from outside, and a ship's worth of power to get it working properly." 

"Guys!" 

"Both of which the battle helm has," you point out. 

"But it's still limited to crew with chips! That's not something you can turn off, not without uninstalling the whole array." the yellowblood says. "I don't get it." 

"You really need to look at this right now!" 

"Smell," you reply automatically, but then you turn. 

There's a shape hanging in midair by the wall. It smells of sour milk. 

Your tech kid is trembling. 

It's... a person. But not. Its stands wrong, it moves wrong. It only has one horn and bulging eyes. It turns towards you. There's blood matting its hair and dripping from its ear. You can't smell the blood color. Everything is white on white on white. 

It disappears. 

"What was that?" says the tealblood. 

Your yellowblood has a screwdriver clenched in his fist. "Did that fucked up battle helm do that? Was that some kind of fucking warning?" 

You look at Vriska. She's exactly as she was when you came in, as are all the lights. And Vriska would never stay quiet and play dead while she thinks she's beating you. 

"It's not her. I'd know if she was faking," you say. "Whatever that was, it wasn't her." 

"Legislacerator," says your vidscreen, "we are approaching the unidentified vessel. Detecting damage to life support. Probable few to none survivors. Arranging boarding parties now." 

"No, stop!" you say. "You need to stay back, something's wrong -" 

There is a screech over the vidscreen. 

"Captain?" you say. By the time you've brought your arm up, there's just her heavy breathing. 

"I - I apologize, Legislacerator, it seemed - well, some of my crew are regrettably highly-strung, I'll recommend them for potential culling as soon as the mission is over -" 

"Did you, by any chance, have a ghostly apparition up there?" you ask. 

"Er... yes. That's... not standard for Legislacerative operations, is it?" 

"Unfortunately, no," you say. "Now back the fuck off from that ship!" 

"Of cou - what? The ship is firing! Repeat, enemy ship is firing! Raise shields, engage manoeuvres! Prepare to return fire!" 

You head out of the battle helm and down the corridor, followed closely by your engineers. More trolls hurry past you as you proceed to the main deck. Most seem to be heading to the bridge in little pairs and threes, with some splitting off towards engineering. You guess normally the Captain would just use the battle helm to summon everyone at once, but she seems to be adapting to communicators. 

You hear a fracas up ahead. By the time you reach it, it's practically a rumpus. 

"I never meant to kill you, I swear, I was just playing!" someone sobs from the floor. Two more trolls are flattened back against a wall, one is crouched on the opposite side, whimpering. All you get is a pungent hit of off-white to the nostrils, and then there's nothing there to smell. 

There's a boom somewhere to the left of you. Normally the shields would hold, but you're being attacked by another imperial battleship. 

You start running towards the bridge, feet crashing on the corridor steel, but a ghost comes out of the floor in front of you. It's wearing a threshecutioner's uniform, where it hasn't been burned away. The singe marks are silver on the rest. 

You back off. The yellowblood wails behind you. "Oh shit, where did you come from, oh shit," he says, and you spin round to face what you think at first is an injured crewman, they're in full colour, but they're young and not in uniform and they still have baby irises that glare at your whimpering yellowblood from a full foot lower. The figure flickers and you know it's time to go when their head lolls a full 90 degrees to the side. 

You grab an engineer with each hand and drag them right through the threshecutioner, only stumbling slightly as you run. They both find their feet, trying to race you away from the horrors. But there are more ghosts coming from the walls. Some are white, some look normal and even uninjured, if it weren't for the expressions on their faces as they reach through you. The hands stick out like barbs on a wire fence and you can barely smell your way through. 

The vidscreen is shrieking. 

"What was that shot? It was nowhere near them!" 

"I'm sorry Captain, I couldn't see, these things are everywhere - oh god, oh god, it's in my console -" 

"Work through it then! Quit panicking and focus!" 

"Captain, they're aiming for the engines!" 

A ghost comes up in front of you, full colour, no older than six sweeps, and whatever sense you're using you'll never forget the look on her face when she tumbled into the canyon during your FLARP game, to be scooped up for Vriska's lusus later. She was shocked then, she's furious now. You reel back and trip. The tealblood grabs for you and misses. There's another boom somewhere beneath you. 

"Damage to the lower decks, captain!" 

"Then fire again, damn you!" 

"I can't, I can't -" 

"Fuck! Ship, activate Battle Helm, authorization Marlet-Imperial-Alpha!" 

"No, don't," you moan from the floor, but ahead of you you're seeing lowbloods jerk and snap to attention from where they're scattered, including your yellowblood. The tealblood watches with a mix of horror and relief. 

"Battle Helm!" comes the voice from your vidscreen. "Attention! Units One through to Fifty, to the bridge, all other units immobile. One to Fifty, when assembled on the bridge, commence fire at enemy ship, aiming for weapons." 

The lowbloods stand, in no particular hurry. Their faces go slack. They show no opinion about gazing into the howling mouths of bloody and raging ghosts. "Yes, Captain," they intone, and stay exactly where they are. Three or four peel off from the group and walk in step towards the end of the corridor, brisk but calm. 

"Captain, they're aiming at the bridge!" says a different voice on the vidscreen. 

"Get those shields the fuck up! Raise them, you hear me? If they hit us now we're -" 

There is another bang somewhere up ahead of you, louder than any of the others. It's echoed through the speakers on your little screen. You lift it up, but there's just flames and sparks and some static. Someone is screaming. Then there's a crack and the flames die and a body floats past the camera frame. 

There is no more news from the bridge. 

"Captain's connection to battle helm damaged," declare the lowbloods around you, still standing. "On standby for new orders. Battle state to be dropped in 10 - 9 - okay! Man, I hate that automatic shit! I'm stopping it before we all drop dead of boredom. You want another ton of ghosts? Bored boring ghosts, snoozing around and getting in the way. Yeah, I thought not. You can thank me later." The lowbloods all smirk. 

"Vriska?" you say. You turn to your remaining engineer. "Can she do that?" 

"If she's got full access to the engine helm, yeah, technically, command input is a system like anything else, but who'd turn it off? It wouldn't accept any more instructions from you!" 

"She's in his head, she doesn't need him to accept instructions." 

"Oh shit." 

You flinch from something coming at you through the floor. "How are you channelling the engine helm?" you say to the nearest glazed-looking crew member. 

"Same way I've been channelling him all along, duuuuuuuuh!" she yells in the voices of twenty lowbloods, and you wince. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Fixing things! That surge blew out half the consoles, plus some of the wall, and sucked all those losers out into space. I'm gonna slap a shield on it and send myself in there to finish things off. If you spot any chumps that look like they're about to keel over, point them out. I don't want to waste good bodies if there's another hit." 

"This is so wrong," you say, and you're about to argue with having Vriska call the shots when Captain Marlet suddenly runs round the corner. She screams "Legislacerator!" into your face, and you start to wonder how she got from the bridge before realising that her torso is dangling in mid-air with no legs attached, and you know now that she can go anywhere she likes, or rather, nowhere at all. 

You cannot shut your eyes from it, so you hold your breath and run right through her. 

"Hey, Vriska?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You know who's doing this, don't you?" 

"Yeah, talk about surprised. Guess I'm not the only one of us you stuck in a battle helm?" 

There's absolutely nothing to say that the battle helm on the crazy, experimental battleship is her, of course. It could totally be some other troll with the ability to summon and control ghosts. 

"It's nothing to do with me," you say. "I haven't spoken to her since we all became adults. Half of us went on the run, it was horrible." 

Karkat was the first to flee, leaving a three page ramble on Trollian about how it was better you didn't know where he was going, it was safer that way, as if that was anything the self-sacrificing asshole had a right to decide for you. Sollux absconded with Aradia and Tavros in the end, because even he couldn't hide their injuries from the fleet, but he could at least get them declared dead and try to dodge his destined position in the meantime. Aradia would have struggled to make it on her own anyway. You're still not sure if Vriska was really trying to kill her that night. Sure, she didn't manage it, but if that was because the ghosts weakened her or because she didn't really want to, who knows? 

You weren't any clearer back then, but you still knew she'd gone too far. Something had to be done about it, and the only one who could was you. Something like putting her somewhere far away, under the control of someone powerful. 

The dual helm project was in secret testing stages back then, and they'd have never looked at someone as high as cerulean for forced recruitment unless there was some sort of capture order due to treason or mutation. Just to find out about the project would've taken someone with computer skills and no respect for firewalls, let alone the security bypasses required to forge a capture order. 

Fortunately, you knew someone with computer skills, and he was really, really mad. 

"Okay, I know I'm going to regret trusting you, but how are you doing?" 

"Almost there. Man, where would you be without me?" comes an unfamiliar voice through the vidscreen. "It's lucky that someone's got plenty of expendable bodies to wade through all these ghosts!" 

"Vriska?" you say. You sniff the vidscreen. There are four controlled crew members of various hues still standing, looking unconcerned by the milky, gory clouds around them. One is apparently not giving a crap about his missing arm, visible ribs, or being bathed in his own mustard blood. "This is important, you've got to take the weapons -" 

"Waaaaaaaay ahead of you," she says, in stereo stereoed, and one of her bodies pushes the captain's corpse off the display monitor, while two go to weapons. The mangled one simply drops to the ground. "Whoops! Guess that one's beyond repair!" 

Your vidscreen views the display clearly, and you can make out another shot coming in. 

"Hurry it the fuck up!" you yell. "God, how the hell did I forget you were completely crazy -" 

"Hahahahaha! Bombs away, sucker!!!!!!!!" 

"Did you get it?" 

There's a lurch and you stumble, must've been the enemy's shot impacting. You've no idea if they're rallying another one. "Vriska, did you hit it?" 

"Yeeeeeeeeeeah! Take that, right to the battle deck!" comes over the vidscreen. The display lights up with red all over the enemy's port side. Around you the ghosts vanish, like the flick of a light switch. Everything is clear again, and you can see Vriska's crew members all around standing to attention. A couple of bluebloods a little way from you groan, and start to rise, gripping the wall for support. Your tech kid uncurls from where she's gibbering on the floor, and backs herself against the wall. 

"Come on! How was that for a sweet shot?" 

"Your shot was admittedly very sweet," you say, a little awkwardly as you have to stop licking the screen. "It tasted of delicious candy red and the salty tears of our enemies." 

"Haha! It's great to see you've still got a sense of humor. I mean, that was pretty weird, but I'll take it." 

"So what now?" you say, gesturing at the small army around you. 

"I don't know," says a troll standing near you. You absolutely do not jump. "To be honest, I'm kind of thrown by all this. Who'd have thought those imbeciles would've died all at once like that? I mean, I was going to take care of it eventually, but I had stuff I wanted to do first." The troll shrugs. "Oh well, can't waste super good luck like this!" 

They look at you. "Hey, you want to join me? It'd be pretty generous of me, letting you ride my shirttails. Almost like something a friend would do for another friend! What do you say?" 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Take out these last few losers, ditch the ship, and have ourselves some fun as partners!" 

"Partners? After everything? You can't be serious." 

"Fine! Man, see if I try to be nice again! Here's me, ripping up my amazingly generous friendship offer. There it goes, rrrrrrrrip, friendship in shreds!" Half the trolls around you make tearing motions. "Oh well, maybe it's better this way anyway. The Neophyte versus the Marquise! Come and get me if you can! I'll even keep the doors unlocked for you." 

"Don't you dare -" you say, as you hear several pairs of feet marching behind you.


	4. Chapter 4

You look back, and see a row of six trolls, eyes blank. Your cane is raised in a second, while you reach out behind you with your other hand and grab the tech kid. 

"What's going on?" she says, all high-pitched. Not for the first time, you doubt whether she's been off the homeworld long. You're not in much of a mood to be sympathetic right now. 

"Listen, soldier! The Battle Helmsman is in command of the ship," you say. "Are you ready to pledge yourself to the law?" 

"What?" 

A demonstration seems to be in order. You shake your cane out into the chucks setting, and jump into the group of lowbloods. 

They reach out as one, but you're already leaping out of the way and cracking one round the head. He drops, and the others surge over him. There are more of them, but you're faster. You dodge backwards. Someone grabs at your coat while others try to pull you down, but Vriska seems clumsy when she divides herself in a hurry, and you manage to whack one with the chucks and send him sprawling into the others. He locks horns with an antlered ensign, and the whole group topple like skittles. You're off before she can work out what's gone wrong, hauling the tech kid behind you. 

"You - what is your name?" 

"Engineer Sherla!" she says, panting. 

"I hereby deputize you as a Temporary and Unreliable But Grudging Excuse For A Legislacerator!" you tell Engineer Sherla, now on her own feet and staggering. It's not the worst start she could be making in her new career. 

"But - but - didn't you see that? The battle helm was turning on us! There are going to be more of them throughout the whole ship!" 

"Justice is a harsh mistress," you tell her. 

You lead the two of you towards the maintenance grid tunnels. No sense chancing the transportalizers when you don't know how much of the system Vriska's hooked into. 

Who are you kidding, you know exactly how much, and it makes you do a quick facepalm even while you run. 

She's in all of the system, of course. 

Allllllll of it. 

"Do you have a strife specibus?" you ask. 

"Uh... yes, measuringtapekind!" You look at her. "It was an accident, okay, I'm pretty good with it." 

"Excellent," you say, "so if you feel anything rooting around in your head... " 

"...uh... " 

"...any channelled crew looking at you funny... " 

"...yeah?" 

"Take that strife specibus and knock yourself out quick." 

"But she shouldn't be able to control me, right? The psychic array only connects to crewmen with chips in their heads!" 

"She shouldn't be able to control the engine helm either. She's good at finding ways in." 

Sherla gulps and nods. 

Two rustbloods come out from a side door. You make short work of them with your cane, though you're not entirely sure if one will be getting up again, and move on. Somewhere, you can hear a lot more footsteps. Time for evasive action. 

You haul your new assistant up so close that the microphones won't catch what you say to her, and hiss into her ear. 

"Take the maintenance tunnels and get to the officers' quarters, if there's anyone up there then have them tune into this," you whisper, while her pulse beats wildly beneath your fingers. "You're an engineer, you know the ways past the cameras, don't you?" 

She nods. "But what about you?" 

"I'm going to take the party to her," you say aloud, grin, and push your tech kid through a low circular hatch in the bulkhead next to you. She squeals, but you give her a final shove inside and slam the door behind her, just as a new group shambles round the corner. 

One, a curly-haired lieutenant with corkscrew horns, moves through the mass and to the front. "I see you ditched that hanger-on," she says, as they pace towards you. "If you were worried about looking bad in front of your little loser friend, I could've just opened an airlock. Wouldn't be the first time I made some lame kid fly, remember?" 

"Perhaps she was simply overwhelmed by my coolness," you say, edging crab-like to the other side of the corridor. There's a monitor to your right. You switch it on with one hand, while eyeing up the oncoming mob. 

"Ha! Well, I'll get to her with the rest of the chumps later. This should just be between me and you, don't you think?" 

"Tell that to your minions there," you say, opening up a map of the ship on your monitor, without turning your head away. 

"These guys? They're basically all me right now," she says. "You're the one with the advantage here! You've still got all the highbloods on your side. I've just got these useless piles of limbs to work with. Man, I wish I had your luck." 

You go into the schematics for the battle helmroom. It has a bunch of switches at the back, which you magnify. There's a manual power switch. 

"You know I'm in the computers, right? Don't you get that I can see you? Man, it's almost like you're BLIND or something!" 

"What's the point in hiding it?" you say. "You already knew where I'd go." 

"True," she says. "I guess we should both give up all lame pretences right now." 

The screen goes black and dies. 

You pivot to face the oncoming trolls, and drop into a defensive stance. They part smoothly, much more smoothly than they did before, and some are already crouching low. She's getting the hang of fighting you. As one, they leap. You duck. 

"You're still not trying to control me," you point out, ducking a swing from your left. The troll hits the wall, but you get a smack to the chin. 

"I might be waiting for the right moment," says one troll. The others hesitate in their fight, ever so briefly, and you note conversation as a good distraction technique. 

"I can feel it when you try to get your hooks in my brain. And I can feel it when it doesn't work," you say, grinning and whirling your cane to try and clear a bit of space. "You're not even trying now." 

"I know not everyone can keep track of soooooooo many things at once," she says, in the growling voice of an oliveblood. He's coming up behind you, but you manage to dodge. "But you do remember this stupid psychic array means I can only get to people with chips, right? Not that it really matters -" crack goes a young lieutenant, right into the wall, "- being stuck with these pieces of shit is just a tiny hitch for someone like me." 

"So she was right." Wham! Someone gets in a blow to your arm. 

"Who?" 

"My young assistant," you say. Your cane arm is oddly numb. You brace the weapon with both hands. "You really can't channel anyone without a chip. But... oh... " 

"What?" 

"So the engine helmsman has a chip!" 

None of the trolls pause in beating you down, but it goes oddly silent apart from the grunts and crunches of bones. 

"Don't bother playing dumb," you say, "There's no other way you could be in the system." 

"Okay, fine, I guess it was getting kinda old keeping it secret. You got me!" 

"Why the hell does the engine helmsman have a chip?" 

"I guess I've just got friends in high places! Well, not a friend, more a fishy douchebag, but he got the job done." 

Fuck. "Eridan? You roped Eridan into your scheme?" The thought of the two of them is making you more than usually repulsed today. "I'm not sure which of you I feel sorrier for." 

"Turns out there aren't many places a violetblood can't get into, if they put their mind to it, and he was planning to be on the battleships anyway. I mean, I was worried he'd flake out as usual. Didn't have many options when the high-ups came looking for me! But no, the first time I was booted up I just had to stretch my mind a little, and then I was into the ship's systems and running this sweet set-up. I couldn't do much with it back then, but now... " 

That's when she sends the brownblood running at you with a knife. You're surrounded by people trying to grab you and your arm's not working well enough for any fancy immobilization moves. You brace your cane against your hip, and swing the end up and forward. 

The troll runs straight onto it with a horrifying squelch, then drags himself backwards. You are splattered head to toe. 

"Wow!" he says, blood running from the corner of his mouth. "Nice try! I wasn't sure you had it in you any more to really take someone down, but you sure proved me wrong!" The last few words are almost obscured in gargling. The troll's expression suddenly snaps to blank, his eyes roll and he drops like there's nothing holding him up any more. Which, you suppose, there isn't. 

You take advantage of her distraction, leap over the body, and run. 

She knows where you're heading, so there's no point avoiding the cameras just yet. Your best bet is to keep heading down the side corridor as quickly as possible, so you have access to the maintenance tunnels if she decides to start screwing with you. Unfortunately, this isn't like chasing a criminal down on a planet, where you can make use of back alleys and cuts through hives to get from A to B. There are plenty of rooms if you wanted to hide, but most of them are self-contained and only lead out back to the corridor. It's a universal failure of the dual helm ships that none are designed for precautions in the event of the battle helm turning out to be a scheming mutineer. You wouldn't stand for such sloppiness in the Legislacerators! 

The end of the corridor branches, so you take a right, leading temporarily away from the maintenance grid but also away from the transportalizer. You hear a hum behind you, which stops abruptly, and then nothing. Vriska can see you, she's not going to bother sending herself where you aren't. 

How the hell did she recruit Eridan to her side? Sure, if anyone had the pull to secretly mess with an engine helm installation, it was him. He was on the admiral track as soon as he left Alternia, collecting all the shiniest medals and getting himself a cushy position on a sister ship to this one. He shot to the top after the first big rebel raid a few sweeps ago, where a scout ship took out a whole military base and the Condesce started pulling her highblood strings left, right and center. But why? Why would he put himself out for Vriska, of all people? 

Well, you can solve the mystery later. You've got a whole teetering stack of things on your plate right now, and most of them are currently pursuing you. But where to go? If you were in a chase onworld, you'd be using all three dimensions of your surroundings. Any point heading up a deck? Probably not, you'd need to come back to this floor eventually. 

You sigh. All this makes you wish you'd brought Pyralspite. Oh, the looks on the faces of your suspects when she drops you out of the sky right in front of them! Unfortunately, she's too big to fit comfortably in an average ship's lusus hold, so you left her with a friend. 

The lusus hold! 

Instead of going left to get back on your planned path, you go right again to the centre transportalizer. Hopefully you'll take Vriska by surprise enough to beat her there before she can redirect her soldiers. 

You dive through the entry to the alcove, and stab at the codepad. There's a flash, the pad hums, and just as you hear footsteps you're appearing in the lusus hold. 

You almost run, but you're still holding your cane, and a sudden stroke of genius makes you smash it on the pad beneath you, then again on the codepad. There's a spark and some smoke. She knows where you are, and she'll find a way to get to you, but you've bought yourself some time to pick your exit. 

The lusus hold is the biggest room on the ship. The ceiling arches high, high above you, maybe three times the height of your old hive. Even Pyralspite would have fit, just about, though you'd never take her anywhere she couldn't spread her wings. The hold is kept darker than the rest of the ship, and you can barely make out the far end from where you are. It's all shadows. Strip lights glow along the floor and the wall in all the colors of the hemospectrum, to mark off where each section of the crew can keep their lusii. There's even a huge tank right behind you marked in purple, though there's nothing in the murky depths. There's a violetblood admiral who oversees the Eradicrusher, but you've heard he's an old-fashioned sort who prefers a single helm system for his flagship. The tank would only be necessary for inspections. 

There are concessions made to other habitats too, more depending on the height of the blood colour. There's a splash to your side where an indigo striplight flickers in the black, and you catch something rippling beneath the flat dark of a pond. There are glimmers of pearly white shapes everywhere up ahead. They smell faintly of vanilla to you. Rustles and growls and clicking noises echo in the vastness. 

You start your walk down the middle, ready to duck into a pen and deal with the consequences if anyone comes in. There are plenty of exits, if you count the couple of doors for crew and tunnel for supplies. It's one reason you picked it as a place to throw Vriska off. 

Things sniff at you as you walk past. You offer a courteous sniff back where you can. 

Can the entire crew really fit their lusii in this one hold? You assume they must, but it'd be tricky if there are any big ones. Feferi's was the biggest you ever heard of, of course, but she was never meant to go offworld. As far as you understand it, she barely fit on the mortal plane. Second biggest would be Vriska's, of course, but that wouldn't be an issue. Helmsmen aren't capable of taking care of lusii after installation. The spider was culled by the authorities shortly after Vriska was captured. 

You know it was an absolutely monstrous excuse for a guardian, and killing it was probably the best thing to come of your plan. 

You still feel a teensy bit bad for her, though. 

Far behind you, there's the familiar hum-whoosh of a door opening. A shaft of light cuts across the floor of the hold like a blade, somewhere back among the blueblood pens. 

Do you dash for the nearest door, or dodge into the lusii? You'll alert the trolls if your impromptu penmate makes a fuss, but the same goes if you run, and the door lights will make your exit obvious. 

You duck sideways and down through the feeding door of the nearest pen, glad your horns fit in the little square, and land palms down on damp grass. You take in the scene. If you can climb over the wall to the side, then cut through the next few enclosures, you might be able to scale the wall at the end and give yourself a boost up to the maintenance hatch. It'll let less light in, and be harder to follow immediately. 

It's risky. You like it. 

The thing in your pen - something big and furry, underlit by olive - appears to be snoring. You crawl along the ground and launch yourself up the wall. The footsteps of the oncoming mob ring out in the background. Not marching, not a regular one-two, one-two, but in unison all the same. From your position on all fours on top of the wall, you chance a look back. The group are slowly progressing forward, snapping their heads to both sides every time they pass a pen. 

They seem bizarrely quiet, but then you realise that you're listening for the signs of a normal troop: orders being barked, maybe some whispering. But these trolls are all essentially one person. 

You drop down and into a crouch on the other side. The lusus in here is awake, but fortunately seems more curious than anything. You make your movements as glacially slow as possible when it lumbers towards you, and freeze when it sticks a tongue in your ear. It seems to decide you taste too bland to bother with. You've known people like that. You keep it on the edge of your nostrils as you creep across its pen. 

Was that a flash of grape? You reel back. It's coming from the lusus, which has something under its paw. Trying not to attract its attention, you give the object a closer inspection. It appears to be the bust of an alien, made from a shimmering purple stone that you vaguely remember being native to the Outer Reach. You're surprised someone as low as...yellow, judging from the lights, would give their lusus as valuable a toy as that, but then the Eradicrusher was on conquest duty in the Outer Reach about two perigees ago. The yellowblood probably picked it up as a souvenir. Illegal, strictly speaking, but you have so many other crimes going on right now, you might as well just arrest everyone on board. 

You're also fortunate that the next lusus appears to be completely absent. The Eradicrusher might well be short on yellows, since the empire is getting even more scrupulous in catching psionics these days. You creep across the pen and ruin your stealth streak by tripping over a rock. 

Even Karkat would be impressed by the stream of vulgarities that goes through your head while you clutch your knee and grit your teeth. 

You turn back to the rock, which receives a glare for its audacity, and you realise it isn't a rock. It's something that's almost buried in the earth of the pen, but not quite deep enough. You lift your head. The footsteps of Vriska's pawns are still at the other end of the hold. You start scrabbling at the dirt and sniffing at what's revealed, using your claws to prise it out. Halfway through you realize there are more things underneath it. Finally, it pops out of the hole. 

"What do we have here?" you would say aloud, only you're being tracked, so you say it in your head so as not to waste the moment. It's really just for grandstanding. You know perfectly well what you have here, and it's another purple artefact from the outer reaches, several hundred units of mixed currencies, a couple of gaudy pieces of jewellery and what seems to be assorted bits of tech. 

"WAAAARK!" screams the not-at-all-absent lusus as it drops on you with claws out from the tree it was hiding in. 

You fling it off, though not without getting your cheek raked for it. Now you're not only coated in the sticky remains of the brownblood you stabbed earlier, but your own blood too. Your special Legislacerator suit is going to be ruined. All the footsteps, previously a background presence in your hearing, speed up and come right at you. 

You give the creature a good wallop with your cane and try to make it up the next wall, but it grabs your leg and sinks its teeth in. You kick at it wildly and bonk it on the head from above till it lets go. You have never been less cool than when you make it to the top of the wall and accidentally hurl yourself over. 

You land on a quackbeast. This makes your landing less painful, but not actually better in any other way. The quackbeast pecks your boot and flaps off. 

Now you'll either have to get back up the wall with your injured leg and try a jump for the maintenance hatch, or make a break for the door. The door isn't really an option. You'll never make it to the helms that way, and you're likely to get caught getting to the side tunnels. 

"Ignoring me, Pyrope? Wow, rude!" 

You swing your cane hard and high at the wall. The first time bounces off, so you angle the second swing and it sticks in. You give it a yank, but it seems stuck. 

"I'll get you in the end, you know! I'm everywhere! Unless you want to stay with a load of dirty animals forever. It'd suit you." 

You use the cane to pull yourself up, and with all the strength in your left arm, drag yourself onto the wall. You catch a scent from below and turn your head. Ten lemony troll eyes gleam in the shadows. 

"There you are!" 

They launch themselves at the wall like frogs, springing up and smacking into it only to drop down and try again. You make for the hatch and grab the handle, knowing that Vriska will get organized soon, you've not got much time - 

The hatch is jammed. 

You yank at it once, again. It budges about a millimetre and sticks harder. There's a group cheer from below and it becomes apparent that Vriska's managed to get two of her bodies to support another one. Its hands snatch at the air below you, while more set themselves up to its side. 

"What's the matter? Having problems?" 

"Not at all," you say through gritted teeth. You slip your cane into the gap of the handle. "This is just a - minor hiccup - in my investigation. So minor, it's practically a burp. The prosecution is briefly embarrassed, then holds its breath and moves on." 

You brace yourself, and pull. Your hand slips, you jerk back, your foot lands on thin air, and you have to hurl yourself forward to stay put while someone laughs. 

"Don't get me wrong!" say three voices below you at once. "I'm pretty impressed with how you've got around me so far. Tell you what, I'll shut you up somewhere nice when I catch you. How about the VVIP room? It's the least I can do for an old friend." 

Someone grabs the heel of your boot. You kick at them until they let go. "How generous of you!" you say. "But there's a flaw in your plan." 

"What?" 

"You couldn't catch me if you'd channelled everyone on the ship," you say, re-grip the cane and heave again. 

Success! The hatch door swings out, knocking off a troll who had made their way up the wall in front of you, and almost losing you your cane for one heart-stopping moment. You yank it free, dive in, and slam the door behind you.


	5. Chapter 5

The tunnel is oddly silent compared to the brawl you just left. There's the occasional thud on the door, echoing hollowly down the metal in front of you. You start moving, trying to get a lead before Vriska thinks to lever the hatch like you did, and soon all you hear is the shuffle of your knees sliding along the floor, and your heart pounding in your ears. The tunnel reeks of dull gray and oil, and presses down all around you, but you've been in worse places. Unlike the engineer you sent ahead of you, you're not sure where the cameras are, only that there aren't as many as in the corridors. Vriska would say you'd need all the luck to get through. You prefer a weapon that makes others look like sad blunted toys for wigglers, and a back-up plan. 

You crawl. 

The tunnels pass, one by one. You come to a vertical fork, take the top route. Carry on. Your breaths sound overly loud in the small space, but you don't stop and rest. You do cackle a little to yourself, part of the way in, at how far you've managed to get around her. Your move, Serket! 

You don't doubt she has one. You're looking forward to seeing it. 

You'd forgotten what she was like, you realize, as your knees start to ache. The walls press in and you're left with your own thoughts. You'd forgotten Vriska completely, once you'd pushed her out of your life. Never the idea of her, never ever, but you could only remember her as exhausting, because exhaustion was what she finally left you with, and you remembered her as sad and desperate, because that was the last you ever heard of her. She was a sort of grayed-out story in your head about a dangerous girl you played games with. You know she was close to you once. You know that as if someone told you. 

But what about the games and chats, that feeling when you wanted be on her side and beat her all at the same time? Every little thing she did cut you somewhere, down through all the joking and messing and right into your head. Every time, you rose to her bait, though you always made sure she'd regret it. 

You've missed it. 

You hear a noise up ahead. You freeze. You stay where you are, ears pricked and trying not to breathe too loudly, but there's nothing else. Was it one of the utility systems? An air current? 

You shift your hand, ever so slowly, in front of you. 

"Legislacerator!" blares the vidscreen. 

You fumble for it, slap the off button, tense up. The tunnel is left empty and silent, somehow shellshocked by the incredibly inappropriately-timed communication ringing through it. 

You shift yourself round till you're sitting hunched up against a wall, and dial down the volume on your screen as low as it'll go before mute. Then you open up another call. 

"Engineer, report," you whisper. She flinches onscreen. You like to really hiss your whispers, even in sentences without an s, and people tend to find it disconcerting. 

"I've made contact, ma'am!" she says, and tilts the screen to reveal what you assume must be the officers, although it's angled so you only get the tips of several horns. She swings it back to her face. "First Officer Lorcan is the ranking officer now, he was on morning shift and slept through the attack in here." 

"I didn't sleep through, I was _woken up by it -_ " 

"Excellent work," you murmur. "Let's all have an award party for competence later. For now, I need his authorization code." 

"His code?" 

"I had the captain's code, but she's dead. If I can get to the helms, I can turn Vriska off, but I need the ranking officer's passcode to make it into the helmroom." 

"Vriska? Oh right, the helmsman. Um...I was just wondering, ma'am, but did you two know each other or something? It's just, the things you've been saying... " 

"We had an extremely short and regrettable partnership when we were kids, which ended in disaster. I haven't thought about her since then, and I'm not going to think about her ever again when this is over!" you say. 

"...right, okay," she says. "Er, the officer isn't happy about handing over his code... " 

"Tell him I'm requisitioning it for the glory of the empire!" you say. "Also, to save all our lives." 

"Right. Apparently it's Lorcan-sniper-63, and if someone as low as either of us so much as thinks it when this is over, culling will be immediate and messy." 

"Commend him for his devotion to duty," you say. 

"Er, Legislacerator?" says Engineer Sherla. "There's, uh, one more thing... " 

"What?" 

"Well, some of us are heading to the bridge now, while the rest of us have been staying here and trying to get into the ship's systems from the inside. I think maybe it's struggling to run both the battle and the engine helms at once? There's a lot I can still get into. It's not keeping me out of seeing stuff - diagnostics and displays, that sort of thing - so I managed to get the main viewscreen here. And, well, maybe you know this already, but the enemy ship is still there. And it looks like it's got maintenance robots repairing it." 

"Well, fuck," you say on a sigh. Why didn't Vriska just blow the thing up? Even when coming to the rescue, she just had to save everyone's asses in a way that would veer right around and bite you in them later, while committing mutiny just to complete her fuck-up combo. How did she even manage to be so frustrating? And you can't even track her down and get some good old-fashioned physical revenge, not while she has a guard army of people who only deserve to be punched as collateral. 

Fortunately, you've more than one way to get one over on her. "Stay in touch with the bridge team, be ready to break in when control reverts to the first officer." 

"You're fixing the problem?" 

"Please, tech kid," you say. "You're the one who fixes problems! I destroy them." You hang up the call, and start moving again. 

How far into the tunnels are you now? You should've brought your chalks and marked the hatches as you passed. It's hard to keep track when everything stinks of dull dull gray. And it's cold in here. Your hands are freezing from being flat on the metal floor. The air is stale and hard to breathe. 

Next time Vriska decides to pull something like this, maybe you can manipulate her into leaving you some nice wide corridors to run down. 

There's a clank, somewhere up ahead. Was that another ship noise? How can you tell? 

You start to move slower, sliding yourself forward so gradually that you barely make a sound. You must be about halfway to your goal by now. A few more stretches, then you'll pop out and get your bearings. 

The right hatch up ahead opens. A troll pulls themselves through, claws scrabbling on the floor, and grins at you. 

"Found you!" they say. You freeze. One hand twitches on your cane. Can you fight your way out when you can barely move? Do you really want to have to kill another mind-controlled crew member? 

Up ahead, there's another clanking sound, and another troll pops out behind the one already in your way. Vriska has numbers and you no longer have agility, you're never going to win a straight-up fight. Why did you have to make her a Helmsman? If only you'd had some sort of remote-detonated bomb at your disposal that could've exploded in her face. That chain of events would have surely had no terrible consequences whatsoever. 

With nowhere else to go, you start shuffling backwards down the tunnel, still on all fours. It's not your best escape plan, but the manoeuvre has the clever and completely unexpected result of making both of Vriska's trolls start sniggering. You grin back at them, and kick out a hatch to your right, spilling out onto the corridor. 

Right into three waiting bodies. One grabs you from behind, wrenches your hands back, and you're digging your fingers in but there's no reaction. Vriska's designed to direct soldiers, and you might as well be scratching dead flesh as long as she decides not to feel the pain. A woman with long and elegant horns shoves you up against the bulkhead, gripping your shoulders. 

"Got you, Pyrope," she says through the voice of the pretty crewmember, and flexes her hands. The claws bite. You snarl. Blood trickles down your shoulders and soaks into your suit. Your captor's eyes track it, then move to your face. 

She blushes. The troll is olive, you smell it on her cheeks. 

You saw Vriska blush from time to time, but she doesn't blush prettily. She tends to erupt in splotches. She always got angry about it, you remember, and it made her blush harder. It was fun when you provoked it. 

Something about this is ringing alarm bells in the back of your mind, but then the oliveblood's face goes blank, her hands unclench, and you're grabbed by a couple of other bodies instead. Your thoughts are jostled right out of your head as they start marching you down the hallway. 

On your left, you pass the broken console from earlier, only it doesn't seem to be spitting sparks anymore. Actually, all the consoles down here have gone dark. You're not sure they're even on. Is it a coincidence, damage from the attack, or was your tech kid right about the difficulties of managing an engine helm and a battle helm at the same time? 

There's also the possibility that the officers have managed to get in Vriska's way somehow, but that doesn't seem likely. You reached the sad conclusion long ago that very few people in the empire know how to get stuff done. So if someone is going to save the situation, it had better be you. 

You turn to the oliveblood body beside you. It doesn't really matter who you talk to, they're all Vriska, but this one works as an avatar. 

You open your mouth to ask where you're going, but a different question falls out. 

"Why aren't you mad at me?" you ask. 

She gives you a side-long look. "Why would I be mad? Did you miss the part where I won? I've got a whole ship to run, you're barely even an issue for me right now." 

"The helmsman thing," you say. "I thought you'd want revenge. You always used to." 

She, and two other bodies, roll their eyes. "Duh, what do you think this is? Come on, we had a thrilling chase through the ship, I captured you, and now I've got you completely at my mercy!" Her eyes dart to the hands around your shoulders. 

"Yeah, but that's all just... you being you, I guess. I thought you'd rip my limbs off, or kill me, or come up with some really melodramatic and over the top punishment," you say. 

"Look, I don't know, okay?" she says. The whole group shrugs their shoulders. "I was really mad at you at first. I guess I still am? I know I still want to smash all your stupid pointy teeth in and wipe that smug grin off your face." She looks away. "But I've had a long time in here to sit and think, and... for a while I wanted to kill you, then I just wanted to humiliate you, and then I started thinking, what if she had a point? What if I really was being a huge bitch about things? But then I went back to wanting revenge anyway, and... man, I don't know!" She makes an exasperated noise. "It was all confusing and it really bugged me, so I thought, screw what happened then! What matters is what I want now, right?" 

"What do you want now?" 

"I don't know that either. I guess... I just want things to go back to the way they were before? Maybe?" She slams a fist into the bulkhead. "Dammit, Pyrope, why do you always have to get in my head and mess things up like this? It's really fucking annoying!" 

"You should give yourself up," you say. 

"What?" 

"The mutiny. You're going to get yourself uninstalled, or killed. If you really don't care about getting revenge on me, you should stop," you say, not even sure why you're bothering. It's too much like the last time you had to take her down, when you messaged her beforehand, hoping for a reason not to. You gave her a warning. For old time's sake? Your own squeamishness? 

Well, the first hasn't stopped everything going to shit tonight, and the latter's never stopped you putting bad guys away. You can be ruthless, when you need to. There's an irritation that bubbles away almost constantly, at everyone who's not as quick as you, who can't see the connections or that what they're doing is wrong, and you like to trip those people up, deep down, you like humiliating and manipulating them. You like to cut them with your tongue and watch their fear bleed out. 

Just a bit, normally. You're not a monster, though you could be if you wanted. But on the job, you can coat everything simmering down there in ice and use it as a weapon, bring people down with hard logic and cold smiles. 

You could do it to Vriska. It's just, if you did it to Vriska, a second time, you feel like maybe there'd be nothing left of you. None of the fire in you. Without her, you'd be cold and bitter, with the sense that somewhere, somehow, you'd lost something that made you. 

"Seriously?" she says. "Wow, you know what your problem is? You think everything's about you! Everyone's a player in your little courtroom drama, and now I'm the bad guy! Blame me for everything going wrong! Not the people who locked me up here, not you for letting them -" 

"You made me kill people today!" You shrug off your guards and spread your feet in a fighting stance, right in the middle of the corridor. She doesn't stop you, but she does scoff. 

"Yeah? Don't even pretend you cared about them, we both know you took out anyone in your way before -" 

"Yeah, bad guys!" 

"And who's the bad guy here? You got me locked up in this fucking starship! Okay, I've sort of forgiven you for that, but have you any idea what it's like to be stuck inside the minds of 400 crewmen and one massive computer?" She pauses. "Well, actually, it's kinda awesome. But it messes with you. Don't judge me for getting free by any means necessary! Just because I saw you and wanted to crush you a little -" 

"Wait, what?" 

"- doesn't mean the rest has anything to do with you! I was hatching plans waaaaaaaay before you wound up on my decks." 

"But you can't keep the crew out forever! They'll stop you eventually, and get the ship back, and then you'll have nowhere to run." 

"Duh," she says. "You think I haven't covered that angle? I don't need to hold them off forever. Soon as I'm ready, I'm out of here." 

"Maybe not as soon as you think," you say, taking in the scene over her shoulder. 

"What?" 

"I might be smelling wrong," you say, "so tell me, is that one of your illegally acquired mindslaves?" 

You refer to the ensign standing alone in the middle of the hallway in front of you, all pearly white and sour milk smell. The ensign is missing a leg. You can smell the bone sticking jagged through the stump. Somehow, he seems angrier at you than at that. 

The ensign snarls, and vanishes. 

"Son of a _bitch_ ," say all the trolls behind you. 

"I was going to mention that," you say. "Apparently that enemy ship is still alive and kicking us all in the collective face. Lost your touch?" 

"As if! Maybe I'd have noticed if SOMEONE hadn't distracted me by running all over my ship!" 

"You're blaming me for this?" 

"Well, you brought us out here, didn't you? This is your mess, Pyrope." 

You almost tell her to finish the job properly, but honestly, you're not too sure about it either. If you're right about the identity of the enemy, ghost-controlling helmsman... well, you just want to be sure, okay? 

"Why don't you just knock it out again?" you say. 

All the trolls shift in unison and look down. You frown. You're a master of reading tells, if you say so yourself, and you know it's not good when Vriska forgets to move her bodies separately. 

"Look, the guns are fried, okay? They were hit by the enemy fire, and then I sort of... overloaded them." 

You slap a hand over your eyes. "Oh my god." 

"Look, I'm working on it, okay? I've got a lot of irons in the fire here!" The trolls around you start pushing you forward. "Once you're out of the way, I'll fix it." 

Another ghost appears right in front of the body Vriska was speaking through. Every single person jumps backwards, including the ones holding you, and you trip over. You're all dragged to the floor, and that's it, you're up, an elbow to each crotch. You're sprinting back down the corridor before she can react, the injury to your leg from the lusus hold turning it into a stumbling limp. 

How to stop that enemy ship? You consider making your way to the bridge. But it'll involve a detour, and you can already hear footsteps behind you. Besides, tech kid and the gang should be working on that, while you've got your own blueberry-smelling area of expertise to deal with. 

You need to get to the helm rooms. Impertinent ghostly intruders will have to wait. 

You dash down the corridor, boots clanking, trying to keep your stride faster than your pursuers. Can you make it through the hallways? Surely she wouldn't have anyone ready to cut you off, she'd have been confident of holding you. Right? You take a running jump straight at the wall at the end of the corridor, swing your cane at the camera, throw yourself to the left. She'll hear you smash it, but she won't be sure of what way you went next. It might buy you time. 

You sprint, expecting to hear people, but the footsteps are getting fainter. Slower. You've lost them? It's just you now, the sound of your panting in time with your feet. 

Then the whirr of the door closing. 

You smack into it, and pound your fist like you can rip steel if you believe hard enough. 

"You said you'd keep the doors unlocked!" you yell. 

It doesn't really matter. You knew she'd cheat eventually, she always cheats. 

She still can't lock the maintenance hatches. You tug the nearest one open and scramble in. You shut it behind you. 

Well done you, only thanks to your shouting, she knows where you are now, doesn't she? 

So what you've got to do is make sure she doesn't know where you will be. 

You start crawling, as fast as you can. You've got to build up a decent lead. If this doesn't work, there's nowhere left to run. 

You crawl right. Towards the bridge. 

Behind you, the hatch opens. You freeze, turn your head to look back, ever so slowly. You watch as two trolls climb through and immediately turn left, heading away from you. The way you should be going, towards the helm. 

Quietly, quietly, trying to time your movements with them, you turn round and follow them. 

Together, you all pad towards the helmrooms. You can't go too fast, they'll notice, but what if they notice you anyway? You try not to breathe too hard. it's difficult. The tunnels are stifling.

Down you go, further and further. The Vriskas are practically grinding their teeth now. They can't work out how you've given them the slip. She must be combing the ship for you. 

You mistime a movement. They turn.

You scoot backwards, even while they laugh and start coming back down for you. There's a turn-off, you passed it a few lengths back, you remember, and here it is! You swing yourself into the alternative route, heading left. You can hear them coming for you, but you were too far behind them, it'll take them too long to catch up. You crawl so fast the friction burns your hands and knees, and hang the next right. You're back on course. You've passed them. But they're still coming for you.

There's a weird humming noise in the background. At first you think maybe it's a weapon, but then you laugh. It's the helms! You're almost there!

You reach a hatch, lift it up and slam it back down as quick as you can, hoping to throw them off. You catch a glimpse of the helm deck. Not much further now. Somone throws themselves in your face, you think you're caught, but then you realise the face is white. It's a ghost, and crawling through it makes you want to shiver and throw up, but you can do it.

There are doors opening and feet stamping beneath you.

"The battle helm hatch is locked," shouts a crowd. "Shall I open it? Would you like to meet all my little friends? Advance or abscond, Terezi!"

You shuffle forward a little further, till you hit another hatch. Unlike all the others, it has a codepad next to it. They don't let just anyone wander into the helmrooms.

Now or never. You punch in the first officer's code.

You hold your breath and drop down into the completely empty, silent room.

Well, empty apart from the engine helmsman strung up in the center. 

You scramble over mounds of fleshy bubblegum strings to the back of the room. There are a million cables, and in the middle, the one you want. The voices are coming through the wall next to you now. "I see you! Wait, what?"

You raise your cane. You should be doing this through the control panel but there's no _time_ , the doors are opening behind you, so you slash downwards and hope.

"The trouble with you, Serket," you say as it hits, "is you always think everything's about you."


	6. Chapter 6

Every single console and striplight goes dark. A moment later, they go back up to half-light as the auxiliary power hums through the ship's circuits. The engine helmsman flails in his straps and makes a gagging noise, then relaxes. The emergency life support has kicked in. 

The battle helm is not one of the systems that automatically engages on auxiliary power. 

You pick your way across the room to the doors, and stand to the side gripping your cane while they open. You are absolutely expecting nasty surprises. However, you hear no footsteps or voices, and nothing comes at you, so you step into the corridor. 

There are five trolls on the floor, spilling out of the doors to the battle helm and sprawled at intervals along the corridor. Their eyes are closed, but you hear the closest one snore and you realise that Vriska must have knocked them all out, just after she realised what you'd planned. Sending people to sleep was always one of her favorite tricks. She could even almost manage that on you. 

You realise why when you get to the battle helm room. One arm restraint is almost dangling off her, and there are cables popped out all along her spine. It wasn't like she was intending to stay a helmsman forever, so she's probably had her own automatic uninstallation protocols prepared for a while. Not too difficult when you can control most of the engineers. She must have realized she couldn't stop you, and hoped to make an escape instead while there was no-one conscious to arrest her. 

Not bad, but obviously not good enough. 

You bring up your vidscreen. 

"Both helms are offline," you tell the officers. "The battle helm is under control." 

"Both helms?" says the first officer. "What did you have to go and take both out for? Now we'll be stuck on auxiliary till we can send someone down there. At least say you didn't take any short cuts when you shut them down. It always messes up the calibrations." 

You can still hear the crackling from where you smashed the power cable, even from the next room. "Please, my methods were as restrained as possible! And they worked, unlike someone's. Now, get Engineer Sherla and any other repair people down here." 

There's a movement behind you, and at first you think one of the crew has woken up. Then you realise that the troll is staring ahead with bulging eyes that seem to be bleeding. It vanishes. 

"Now!" you add. 

There are a few screams over the vidscreen. The first officer's voice snaps out. "The doors are working, we need to get to battle stations!" 

"The bridge is off-limits!" you yell as you run towards the transportalizers. "Vriska put a shield over the hole in the hull, but it'll be gone now. You need to get it running off auxiliary power!" 

"Sir, we have scanners functioning remotely!" one of the babble of voices calls out. "Looks like they're preparing to fire!" 

"Fuckdamnit!" 

There's a blast, and at first you think that's it, the place is exploding around you, but it's just a ringing in your ears and two overloaded consoles behind you. You still find yourself grabbing onto the bulkhead for balance. 

"Hit to helm deck! Hull integrity is holding, but we've got overloads in the corridor and the engine helm! And... " the voice shakes. "Engine helm life support has overloaded, sir!" 

"Legislacerator, you're closest!" 

"On my way," you say, and turn back, sprinting towards the higher concentration of spitting wires. You pound the code in and dash through to the engine helmroom. The engine helm is taking harsh, heaving breaths and thrashing in his restraints. They may have tried to suppress his personality, but now there's nothing to prevent his raw panic. 

"Shoosh," you say, putting one hand on his arm while you bash buttons on the datapad. "Tell me what I have to do, I can help!" 

The helmsman takes one more gasp, then goes still. 

"Fuck," you say. 

You stand there a minute longer, running through all possible actions in your head, but there's nothing you can do. There's no more power, and you don't have any more than a basic knowledge of helmsmen. He's gone. 

You wonder if it would be easier if you still thought of helmsmen as little more than the computers they're hooked into. Given the situation, possibly not. 

Another boom, though far away, reminds you that you're wasting time. 

"Helmsman life support failed. The engine helmsman is dead," you say into your vidscreen as you leave the room. There's a lot of swearing on the other side. 

You don't stop walking when you're in the corridor. Somehow, you keep moving until you're right in front of the battle helmroom door. It's very close to the engine helmroom. And very close to where they've been firing. 

You think of every single frustrating and messed-up situation that Vriska Serket has dragged you through or put you up to, make a disgusted noise in the back of your throat, then sigh. 

Shit. 

"What is your current position and proposed course, Legislacerator?" asks someone who is distinctly not the first officer, whose background ranting is still extremely audible. 

"I'm going to the battle helmroom," you say, "to take possession of the helmsman before another strike." 

"The hell you are," says the first officer. "We're heading to the bridge to reroute systems, I want you to join us there." 

"They're aiming at the helms," you say. "She'll die if I don't -" 

"Then let her! The thing's culling bait now, anyway!" 

"A valuable helmsman?" 

"A compromised helmsman! I heard you talking to the captain, we both know the thing was breached before this whole mess started!" 

You punch the code in by the door. "May I remind you, officer, that this is a Legislacerator operation, and I don't have to follow any of your self-righteous, trumped-up fart noises masquerading as orders?" 

"You may be a Legislacerator but as far as I'm concerned you're one step away from treason. You're only teal, they'll take you out if I tell them you were aiding a mutineer." 

It's not a completely worthless threat, and you do have to stop and think about what you're doing. You notice you're being watched by a ghost, in colour but faint. She's crying. 

"You can fuck off too," you mutter. 

That's when the lights around you go out, all at once, with a whine like a dying bee. 

"We've lost lighting," says the voice from the vidscreen. "Checking systems..." 

There's a scream. "Holy shit, these fucking ghosts! That one was almost right in front of me!" 

There's a movement, halfway down the corridor. One of the sleeping lowbloods appears to be waking up. 

All of them appear to be waking up. Every single hand is twitching. All of them are waking up at the exact same time. 

"Officers, I need you to look round for me and check the status of any unconscious crew members." 

"Yeah, there are a few over - wait, hang on -" 

Everyone in your area pushes themselves up, simultaneously, to standing. They're sort of jerky in the way they move, like puppets handled by an amateur doing a show for wigglers. They don't smirk or make sassy comments. They simply stare. 

"Is this the battle helm? How can it work without an engine helm? I thought you'd taken care of this!" 

"Please, officer. I find your lack of trust highly upsetting! I did take care of it, and now there's a new problem." 

"What problem?" 

"No idea," you say. You grip your cane. "But I'm going to find out." 

You hear the officers calling a retreat as you launch yourself at the oncoming group. 

They're vicious. They lash out in all directions with every strife specibus they have and every body part to boot, kicking and biting and scratching. Some attacks land in mid-air, some on other attacking crew, but there are so many that you can't dodge them all, so they land on you, and they land hard. Your uniform is already bloodstained from earlier; a claw catches your forehead and causes more blood to roll down your face. 

They pause. It's as complete as it is sudden, and you're about to make a break for it when they come at you again. You do your best to damage them with swipes and slashes, then counter-attacks, and then you're just holding your cane out with both hands trying to hold them off as they back you into a bulkhead. 

Then they all freeze, once again, but for longer this time. Some even end up toppling mid-attack. You shove the group who are against your cane and duck under someone's arm. They all start up again a minute later, but you're already sprinting into the battle helmroom. 

Vriska is still only half-connected to the restraints, but she's stood as straight and stiff as possible while connected. The psychic array has cables dangling loose from it, which might explain why it keeps losing the connection to its connected crew. It's still flashing clearly and constantly. 

First things first. You're not sure smashing the power cable will work again, you're already on auxiliary and you've no idea how Vriska managed to switch herself back on in the first place. However, you can stop her connecting to the crew. 

You grin, brace a foot on her chest, and yank the remaining cables out of the psychic array. The trolls in the doorway crumple. Let no-one say you aren't good with technology. 

Vriska doesn't react. 

"Hey, Vriska," you say. "Miss me?" 

Nothing. Either you damaged her brain when you took out the cables - you hope not, it looked mostly uninstalled already - or... 

She isn't the one in charge of it right now. 

"Tech kid!" you yell into your vidscreen. "Get on here, fast." 

The first officer's face appears, sweaty with his hair tangled in his horns. "The lowbloods have stopped advancing," he says. "We've got a few coming round now. It looks like they're suffering from psychic feedback, but they're mostly stable. Are you responsible for stopping it?" 

"Please, who else could have? I'd like my medal to be red, shiny, and delivered posthaste," you say. "In the meantime, I need to speak to Engineer Sherla." 

"Sherla speaking," says your assistant. 

"Tech kid!" you say. "Tell me, how do I disconnect the battle helm from the engine helm?" 

"Well, you just go into the main console, open up the repairs window... " she rattles off a list of instructions, finishing with, "and you can use my authorisation for that, it's Sherla-T-6-Gamma-7-2. It's not too hard, we have to separate it for maintenance work sometimes. You won't be able to give it orders or anything like that though. And it'll be on back-up life support - though I guess it probably is already... " She pauses. "Why do you need to disconnect it? The problem's solved, right?" 

"I'm not sure," you say. "We may have an even bigger problem." 

You hear a, "Sir, the door is shut!" through the vidscreen. 

"A bigger problem than a rogue battle helm?" 

You glance back to where Vriska is hanging. "Yeah. I'm pretty sure someone was just sending it orders." 

"Through the engine helm? How? I thought you said it was dead!" 

The transportalizer sends up empty sparks at the end of the corridor, lighting up the dark, and a realisation hits you like a ton of hoofbeasts. 

"Yes," you say, "and someone out there can control ghosts." 

"But that doesn't make sense! It's dead, how can it run physical systems?" 

"You integrated him into the computers," you say. "You put his personality in the fucking computers, where do you think he'd be haunting?" 

She whimpers. "Oh god. Oh god, the enemy has our systems, we're fucked -" 

"Then unfuck us," you say. "You're the engineer! And tell everyone what's going on, I have a job of my own to do." 

You ignore her babbling and start accessing the repairs console. It takes you a while to change all the settings you need, though a lot of them seem to have been left where Vriska presumably dialled them down to. There's a background noise of tinny people shouting from the vidscreen on your arm, but it's easily ignored. 

You know everything's ready when Vriska's head snaps back, and she sucks in air with a horrible gasping noise, like all the oxygen in the room isn't enough. 

"Good evening," you say, grinning, picking up a spanner from where one of the engineers abandoned it and getting to work on one of the main cables. "Nice to see you're awake for this!" She flails her less restrained arm in your direction and tries to say something, but it catches on the equipment connected to her throat. The tone comes across though. 

It feels surprisingly good to have her like this: injured and completely at your mercy, but fighting it like she'd have sent this whole ship up in a cloud of smoke rather than end up here. Almost as good as her shock when you beat her earlier. It's understandable, you decide, because although you're saving her, you're entitled to a little simmering malice after today. 

Simmering like a pit of bubbling tar, and oh no, is that - are you black for her? 

The idea slides into place among a bunch of other thoughts like a puzzle piece, and all you can think, dumbly, is _That explains a lot._

You put it to one side. Now is not the time for a romantic crisis. 

You seriously consider leaving the throat cable in to piss her off further, but she might actually give herself an injury at this rate, and that would be really inconvenient, what with having no medical equipment or overwhelming desire to see her not bleed. 

You go back to the computers and enter the commands to release cables connected to the face and neck. The psychic array is hard-wired into her brain, and though you can separate it from the ship, you're not even sure if it'll be possible to disconnect the helmet from her. Everything else springs free. 

"Hurry -" she says, but her voice catches on a broken hiss. "Get those... fucking tubes... out of me!" She collapses forward from the effort required to slur words with her very own voice. You still have no medical equipment, but it looks like something will be necessary here, so you rifle through the abandoned tools until you find some pipe-grade engineers' sealing patches. You stick one seal over the bruise on her windpipe, and then, as an afterthought, slap one over her lips in the hope that it'll make her resist the urge to start dramatizing, at least long enough for her throat to begin healing. The "Mmmmmmmmph!" and accompanying glare make you doubt it, but whatever, you tried, you'll just have to free her hands last so she doesn't undo your work immediately. 

There are ghosts appearing on and off around the room now, some in the consoles, which makes it lucky that the rest of the process only requires pressing accept when prompts come up. Anything complicated, you'd struggle to smell. More of the ghosts are in colour now. Is the enemy getting stronger? It's a bit weird that Vriska isn't freaking out, since her last haunting pretty much broke her. Then again, you're not sure how much she can see through the psychic array. What if you're both blind now? It's a cheerful thought. 

She seems very, very small once you've got her out, body curling inwards and hands bound tight, and even her hair is slimed down flat against her cheeks. She was always skinny, with knobbly spider limbs, but you think she's somehow shrunk even more. 

She tumbles into your arms, and to your alarm you feel oh god, a flicker of red in your heart as she shows herself in all her broken vulnerability. 

Then she looks up from where she's tight in your arms and hisses through the seal on her mouth, and you remember that she's broken like a window, all shards of glass and somehow ten times more dangerous than normal, and also she's trying to wriggle away from you despite being unable to stand, and it's so infuriating. 

You magnanimously resist the temptation to bite her on the ear. 

After a brief scuffle, she manages to lock her arm around yours enough for you to prop her up and half-drag her out. She tries to dig her claws into you in the process, but she's not quite strong enough to draw blood. Instead, her fingers spasm around your forearm. 

"Legislacerator?" says a familiar voice from the vidscreen. You groan. 

"What is it, officer?" you answer. Vriska's head twitches in your direction. 

"Are the reports I'm hearing correct? The engine helm has been infested by the enemy ship?" 

"Yes," you say, scowling. "Did you get to the bridge?" 

"No," he says. "Our deck appears to be sealed off. Can you get to the engine helm?" 

"It doesn't matter," you say. "I do seem to have a talent for taking down rogue helms, but it's a ghost in the circuits now. Even I don't know what to do with that." 

"Shit," he sighs. "Well, the good news is, for some reason it hasn't paralysed everything on board, and the... intruders... are currently manageable, so we still have a chance. The current plan is to have some people cutting their way out, and others trying to go through the maintenance tunnels." 

"You won't be fast enough," you say. "They're firing right now!" 

"What the hell else do we do?" 

You stand in the corridor and consider. You can't fight, that's clear. You'll never get everyone in place in time. If you do nothing, you'll die. You can't even open up communication lines right now, not with half the bridge operations currently non-functional. You're basically at the mercy of the enemy ship. 

Is that an idea, right there? 

"Let me take a shuttle and talk to them," you say. 

There's a pause. 

"Absolutely not," says the first officer. 

"You don't have a choice," you say. "We can't fight this -" 

"You do not negotiate with rebels! The Empress would have all our heads!" 

"We're all going to die anyway, you pompous asshole!" 

It's not like you haven't known rebellious types to have mercy before. 

This is when Vriska picks her moment to inject a "MMMMMMMMPH!" through the seal on her mouth. 

"What was that?" says the officer. "Hang on, is that - is that the battle helmsman?" Shit, you forgot she'd be visible through the vidscreen at that angle. "You mutinous beast, I'll have your horns for this -" 

"Blah blah blah," you say. "Look on the bright side! If I'm right, everyone lives, and if I'm wrong, at least I'll have a chance to wave goodbye to you before we all float off into the licorice blackness of space." You smile, and end the call.


	7. Chapter 7

When you're done, you turn to Vriska and rip the patch off her lips with more force than is strictly necessary. 

"Ow! Fuck!" she says, and winces as the noise hurts her throat. Unfortunately, it's unlikely to make her shut up. 

"Gotta say, that was a nice line to give that douchebag!" she rasps. "So where are we really going? I know a fence on Rockscar Five, he'll let us hide for a while if I open up a credit line -" 

"We're going to the enemy ship," you say, taking a deep sniff afterwards so you can really enjoy the look of horror on her face. 

"You're messing with me, right? Ha ha, so funny! You got me good!" 

"Nope," you say, starting to move down the corridor as fast as possible given that there's a weakened, semi-blinded and unwilling Vriska dragging on your arm. 

She tries sweetness, just like you knew she would. "Okay, look, I get it. You want to go play hero for the Empire. And that's great! I'm sure you'll be amazing. But you don't need me there cramping your style, right? You go get 'em, Terezi! Just put me on another shuttle, and I'll stay out of your way." 

"Wow," you say. "We are literally both tripping over the people you took over, hunted me with, and then burnt out to leave as groaning piles earlier, and you're trying to get on my good side?" 

"So I sent a few goons your way! It's not like I didn't know you could handle it." 

"Anyway," you say, shuffling you both around the corner, "there's no way you can pilot a shuttle by yourself right now, so you might as well shut up and come with me. Unless you want me to leave you for when the crew succeeds or the ship blows up?" 

A broken-jawed mouth appears right in front of your nose and you jerk back. 

"What? What is it?" 

"Another ghost," you say, stepping around it. It swivels to watch you go. 

"Man, I hate those things!" she says. "It was bad enough having to wade through them before. Now I can feel them." She shudders. "Creepy pieces of SHIT!" 

"Come on, quit whining," you say. "I smelled you fixing things on the bridge earlier just fine. You were neck deep in your spooky ghost pile, and you didn't have even the tiniest little freak out." 

She scowls. "Yeah, when I was sitting in the chumps I controlled! It's different then, it's all like...data. You can tune out the stuff you don't need. Even being stuck in this body was alright when I was back in the helm! Being in the computers keeps you sort of focused." She looks down. "Now everything's just all...raw, and I'm fucking trapped in this useless, piece of shit body with a fucking helmet on my head, and all I can feel is that freezing shit from those ghosts!" 

"You should thank me then," you say, leading her down another corridor. A lowblood ensign is leaning against a bulkhead, eyes bleary. He opens his mouth, and you shake your head at him. 

"What?" 

"For taking you to the enemy ship. Don't you want to get some payback?" 

Vriska, for a wonder, goes quiet. Then she smirks. "Hmm. I guess that _would_ be pretty satisfying!" 

"So? How about we team up?" 

"Oh, I see how it is! You didn't want to be friends earlier, but now you need me -" 

"We can't be friends," you say, ignoring the little voice inside you that wants you to patch everything up. "You're still dangerous and unreliable and you ruin everything. But that doesn't mean we can't work together on this." 

You expect her to explode, and you have retorts ready to fire back. But she just says, "Huh," in a small voice. 

You almost say something else, anything to justify what shouldn't need justifying, but then she speaks again. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Not like I have much choice anyway." 

Then you both walk together in silence, except for Vriska's pained breaths. You pretend she's not talking because her throat is sore. 

Then you come to the end of a corridor to find the door shut. One crewman is fiddling with the panel next to it, while the ensign next to him points and gives advice, getting increasingly louder and more frantic when a ghost appears next to him. 

"Damn," you say. 

"What?" 

"The enemy helm has sealed the doors. I was hoping it would stay distracted with the officer deck." You sigh. "I never wanted to smell the inside of a maintenance tunnel again." 

"Maintenance tunnels?" Vriska says. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but I'm not exactly in great shape for crawling through maintenance tunnels!" 

You turn to her, hunched over your arm and trembling, and know she's right. Not that you'll ever tell her. You concede defeat for strategic purposes only. 

But it's a strategy you need right now. 

"Hey, how much effort did it take to control the crew and the ship?" you ask. "I bet it would be really tricky for someone without all your irons in the fire, right?" 

"Well, duh," she says. "Sending your mind to that many places? It took a whole web of masterful manipulation and multitasking. Not to mention power consumption." 

"Is that why you didn't just lock all the doors to start with? Just another thing to keep track of?" 

"Sure, plus you were getting round them anyway. What's this about? Is it just to rub my face in it? I bet you feel great, reminding me of all my mistakes." 

"If it makes you feel better, your complete failure to contain me might just save both our skins," you say, and re-open your call to Engineer Sherla. 

"Hello? Anyone there?" you say. 

"...Legislacerator?" Sherla's face appears on screen, to be elbowed aside by the first officer. 

"I order you to get here immediately -" he starts. 

"What a coincidence! That's exactly what I'm trying to do," you say. 

"What?" 

"I've decided you were right!" you say. "The enemy ship is clearly not in a frame of mind for negotiation, and so I will give up this treasonous path at once." 

"...you will?" 

"I will! Allow me to make my sincere apologies by presenting you with one mutinous battle helmsman for immediate culling. She's clearly far too dangerous to stay in my custody, but unfortunately, as you know, a legislacerator does not cull her suspects immediately. We just submit them to the court for dooming. The commanding officer of a battleship, on the other hand, has a certain... free rein with these things." 

"Wait, what?" says Vriska. 

The commander's frown lightens. "You are correct, Legislacerator. Can I take this as your promise to bring her up to the bridge immediately?" 

"Of course!" you say, ignoring Vriska's thrashing in your grip. "There is just one small snag. Before I had my change of heart, I sent a message to the enemy vessel offering our unconditional surrender." 

"You did what?" 

"So! I need you, or whoever you've delegated, to start sending a message to the enemy ship ordering them to disregard all previous messages. Spam them if you must. Anything to rectify my foolish mistake." 

The commander swears. "You could have got us all killed or captured!" 

"I know, I know, I feel horrible. Trust me," you say, and try not to grin. "Also, the battle helm has informed me that she hid bombs around the ship, to be detonated on a timer in the event of a capture. They should be attached to the guns, so you need to send as many people as possible that way to break in before it's too late." 

"I'll have your head for allowing this, I swear -" 

"Later, I will weep profusely and throw myself on your mercy like it's a bouncy hive of accepted apologies," you say. "But for now, I think you've got bigger problems." 

He cuts the call. 

"What the hell was that about?" says Vriska. 

"Wait," you say. A minute later, the door pops open, much to the surprise of the trolls working on it. 

"That enemy helm is currently splitting its attention between its own ship and this one, as well as leading a ghost attack. I just gave it even more things to think about," you say, dragging Vriska through. 

"Huh," she says. "You know, bombs on the guns would've been such a good plan! Why didn't I think of that?" 

You both make your way to the shuttle bay. There's no more need for maintenance tunnels or exciting detours; every door remains open. You make a mental note to thank the bridge team for their excellent distraction, just as soon as you're in a safe place to thank them from, where no-one can find you and show their wholehearted appreciation for your actions with culling implements. 

There are two crewmen standing outside the doors; you're about to ask them to move when Vriska waves a hand at them. Their eyes roll and they drop to the floor. 

"What? This thing?" she says, tapping her helmet. "I may not have the same juice, but I've still got my own talents. If they have a chip. they're mine to mess with." 

You fix that thought at the back of your head for later and stride into the room. There's a bang from somewhere above you as you lead Vriska across the bay floor. The explosions seem less frequent since you had the crew split the ship's attention, but they're still coming. The Eradicrusher is doomed if your plan fails. 

You head for the nearest shuttle, prop Vriska up against it like a discarded mop, get in and perch yourself on the pilot's chair. You flex your fingers, touch the start button, and utterly fail to start anything. 

Instead, a prompt for a passcode comes up. You try to enter the first officer's, but it won't fit. The shuttles have their own password format, and you don't know any of the letters they're looking for. You doubt the first officer will be so helpful this time. 

"It's locked!" you yell. 

"That's 'cause you're on the wrong shuttle, idiot!" shouts Vriska from outside. You exit to find her staggering into a completely different shuttle on the other side of the bay, holding herself up with the doorframe. 

"What are you doing?" you say, running over. 

She collapses into one of the cockpit chairs, taps a few things, and says "Mindfang-G-R-8." Everything lights up with a warm hum. 

"You had your own code programmed?" 

"Well yeah, I've had my exit plan for ages. I planned to have a lot more bodies preparing it, but somebody ran me out of time. I was going to make us super rich." She looks behind her. "Still richer than any of those officer dorks, though, so I still win!" 

You look back too. At the back of the shuttle, stacked neatly, are heaps of gold things, shiny things, and familiar looking purple busts from the Outer Belt. 

"That was you? You hid the stuff in the lusus hold?" You slap a hand to your forehead and groan. Of course it was. You had a secret treasure hoard and Vriska up to no good, how much more evidence did you need to prosecute your suspect? 

"Well yeah, duh!" She starts pressing things and tuning dials. "Honestly, it was so easy, I almost felt bad for them. But I guess that's what they get for underestimating me! At first, I could only make a move if the captain switched me on. I just added my own orders in between hers - she'd tell them to capture the outpost, I'd tell them to put stuff in their bags - and hiding stuff in the lusus hold worked fine. Half the crew had their lusii fighting with them, and no-one looked too closely in the pens later. It was selling the stuff that was the problem." She places her hand on the touchpad, and the shuttle rises into a low hover. 

"So how did you fence things?" 

"Oh, well, the captain started leaving me on all the time, didn't she? And she told me I could take suitable action whenever someone exhibited treasonous behaviour. What an idiot! Have you any idea how much stuff is treasonous? I just decided the suitable action was to jack their minds, wait till we touched down on some space station, and have them shift some stuff." The console beeps. "Fuck! That's all I need!" 

"What?" 

"The main door's locked. Has the great Terezi Pyrope got any brilliant ideas for this one? A magic distraction she can pull out of her ass?" 

"Not really," you admit. "I hoped it'd be occupied with the other stuff I threw at it. I guess the shuttle bay door's an obvious one to keep locked." 

"You don't say!" 

You give the viewscreen a sniff, where the doors are displayed. They're solid steel, no way you're driving through them. And you can't exactly go around. Getting a shuttle into a maintenance tunnel would be ill-advised at best. The ship is practically teeming with distractions at this point, so there's not much left to lure the enemy's attention away. 

So perhaps that's not what you should be doing. 

You run to the back of the shuttle and activate a big red panel, which you may go back and lick when you're not in mortal peril. It turns on the distress beacon, which is designed to be clear, long-range and easy to home in on. 

"Hey, Vriska," you say. "Reverse this thing as far back as you can. Try to get it right up against the bulkheads." 

"What? Why?" 

"No questions please!" you say. You move to the main control panel and eject a little of the fuel. You don't need a huge amount to get to where you're going, and it'll make life support automatically deal with the radiation leak. That should be a fair amount of power diverted here. 

"Right," you say. "Brace yourself." 

There's a boom and the shuttle rocks, nearly sending Vriska out of her seat. You're tempted to nudge her all the way, but maybe now is not the time. The door appears to be dented inwards. 

"On the door," you say, but are rudely interrupted by another bang. 

"They won't want that distress beacon to bring more ships!" you yell. "Or have any more power consumption to manage!" 

You think Vriska yells something back, but you can't hear it over the shuttle bay door exploding inwards. A chunk of metal whizzes off the shuttle hull, and shards pepper the viewscreen. An alarm starts whooping. 

Fortunately, Vriska is already in motion, driving the shuttle forward, aided by the vacuum you created. You grab the co-pilot console and try to stabilize the thing. There's a clang as something hits the side. 

"Hard left!" she screams. "We're going to hit -" 

You smack into another shuttle, but at an angle, so your craft bounces upwards. You bang into the ceiling, then through the blackened hole in the doors. You fly into the completely obstacle-free blackness of space, your shuttle jerking like a wild hoofbeast. 

"Ha! Suckers!" yells Vriska, or as much as she can, her voice cracking on the loud words. "Though fuck you for almost getting us killed." 

"Please, Serket," you say, tapping at a console and trying to work out what to do with the stabilizers, "As if I didn't have that completely covered." 

"Yeah, right. You can't even get this stupid piece of junk to fly straight!" 

"I can't do anything about hull damage from here," you say. 

She rolls her eyes and flings herself across you, hair spilling into your face, and pulls various things up on the computers. Her hands have lost some flexibility from their time in the restraints, but she seems to be adapting to poking buttons with stiff fingers. 

The shuttle stops jerking, or at least not so much. 

"There, that should hold it for now. I was a ship for the last few sweeps, remember? No-one knows more about ships than me." 

"Yeah, thanks," you mutter, and she goes back to her seat while you turn the distress beacon off and set a course for the enemy ship. 

It's an eerie sight outside. You have the Eradicrusher to one side, whole sheets of hull metal ripped from her and a gouge where her bridge used to be. A little way off is the enemy ship, laser lines scored into her and drones coating her like lice. Both ships are darker than you'd expect, both running off auxiliary power. Vriska doesn't comment, but then you're still not sure how much she can see with the array on. She doesn't seem to be as completely blind as you thought, but things have to be dimmer, at least. 

She still acts like her body takes up an entire room. As you float on past shrapnel and debris, she slouches in her chair, flicking a hand through her matted rug of hair. Her other hand drums the console in front of her. When she goes to the back to check out the supplies, she sheds things on the way back - a jacket shrugged onto the floor, rations packet dropped nearby - already spreading her messes throughout the cabin like cables. 

She sits back down. 

"So... " she says, then clears her throat. "What are you doing after all this?" 

"I hadn't really thought about it," you admit. "First, let's try not to die horribly." 

"I guess even I can get behind that one." 

A shot zooms over the shuttle like a comet, impacting somewhere on your ship behind you. It reminds you of what you're doing. You open up a channel. 

"Shuttle craft to enemy vessel," you say. "This is Terezi Pyrope of the Legislacerators, formally requesting permission to board and open negotiations." 

Vriska grabs your hand. "What are you doing? We're not encased in a shuttle bay now, in case that escaped your ever-so-amazing nose! They shoot us, we're dead!" 

"They'd see us anyway, and there's no way we're getting aboard that ship otherwise," you say. 

You both wait, tense breaths in the quiet. There's no reply, but neither are there any shots fired your way. You guess that's close enough to permission. 

"Hey, you're not actually a Legislacerator now, are you?" says Vriska. 

"I know you're at least partly blind now - which, for the record, I find hideously and hilariously ironic - but I thought you'd noticed the sexy Legislacerator suit I'm wearing." 

"Yeah, but you just disobeyed a direct order and came here to negotiate with rebels. Even you can't get out of that one!" 

She has zero concept of personal space. When you argue, she either leans right back as if she couldn't care what you say in the space, or yells in your face. 

"Try me," you say, more as a retort than an actual disagreement. You are, if you escape this, pretty much fucked in terms of your career. 

There's a pause. 

"Of course, I have some amazing things planned for when I get shot of all this. You simply wouldn't believe the plans I have!" 

"Oh?" 

She waves a hand towards her stash at the back. 

"That's not everything I've got, you know. You didn't really think it was, did you? As if I'd have conquered seven planets and only have that to show for it." 

"So where's the rest of it? Hidden in the lusus hold? Buried on some backwater planet to be dug up by natives?" 

"Ha! No," she says. "Well, there's probably some back on the ship. But I've been shifting stuff for ages. I've got a bank account with ten million credits in it." 

"Ten million? How did you even manage to open a bank account with that sort of limit? How did you manage to get an account at all?" 

"Eridan," she says, spinning her chair. "How'd you think I got him to help me out with the chipped helmsman thing? He gets a forty percent cut of everything I make, set up automatically." 

"You trust him?" 

"Hell no! The guy's a complete douche, and sometimes I think he's still after my black quadrant. But we ran enough campaigns that even he knows no-one can beat us when we decide to steal some loser's shit. I put some security precautions in place, but mostly he knows that if he steals from me, everything comes out about his little favour for me, not to mention all his other activities on the side." 

"Other activities? What the hell is he up to?" 

"Oh, funding the rebels," Vriska says. 

"Eridan's with the rebels?" 

"Well, yeah. I think he was kinda bitter over Feferi at first, refused to support her, but Karkat nagged him into it somehow. Personally, I reckon he thinks if he pours enough credits into her revolution, she'll take him back, but I don't really care." 

"Karkat joined the rebels?" 

"Wow, how are you more out of touch than me? You really lost your touch, Pyrope. Yeah, he's with the rebels, being his dumb old swaggering self and bossing people about." 

Logically, it makes sense that some of your old cohort would have ended up supporting the Heiress Apparent. Hey, you liked Feferi too, though not enough to defy the empire for her. Besides, you were rather fond of your job. 

But what if you were on the wrong side all this time? 

The lights flicker, and the consoles beep. 

"Fuck!" says Vriska. 

"What?" 

"Engine problems," she says, pulling up a display. You follow suit, and soon find the problem. 

"The damage from take-off?" you say, "I thought you had that under control." 

"Oh yeah, blame me, that'll fix it!" 

"Why not? You screw up everything eventually. Look at me, I'm Vriska Serket, I can fly a damaged shuttle because I sat at the back of a starship once!" 

"It was your idea to make this stupid journey! Fuck! Why didn't I ditch you and make for the nearest space station?" 

"I hate to remind you, but you currently can't walk two steps without me." 

"I could hold onto a wall! Hey, maybe it'd be a better partner all round! We could go through whole conversations without having it sling accusations at me!" 

An alarm sounds. The engine on the monitor flashes red. 

"I wouldn't dream of telling you to shut up, but we are approaching the enemy ship," you say. 

Vriska pulls up the viewscreen. You see the shuttle bay doors sliding open. 

"Well, looks like they got our message," you say. 

"Yeah, but we're coming in way too fast!" she says. "I'm trying to slow it down with half-brakes." 

There's a bang, and the alarm goes wild. She looks at you. 

"No brakes." 

You careen with an utterly weird and uncontrolled grace right into the gap, probably due to there being no obstacles in space, including friction or anything else that might slow you past what your thrusters managed on their last-gasp effort. Vriska swears and jabs buttons. You go into back-up systems, diagnosis systems, anything you can pull out of your ass, and finally you throw yourself back into your seat as the shuttle crashes into the bay floor.


	8. Chapter 8

Waking up is confusing. Everything is smoke and heat and orange. 

"Come onnnnnnnn Pyrope, we're kind of on a schedule here!" 

There are things on your shoulders and they're digging into your skin. Something yanks you, and you slump sideways. 

"That's right, just leave all the heavy lifting to the girl who's not used her limbs for three sweeps, that sure seems sensible! Look, I hate to admit it, but I'm really not up to dragging your fat ass right now. Is that what you wanted to hear? Give me something!" 

Sounds beyond the voice start coming back to you. It's mostly loud crackling. Your head hurts. 

"I really should leave you here, you know. The way you left me to that ship!" 

You feel yourself plummet out of your seat. Everything explodes with pain when you hit the floor. Your head is tearing itself apart, and there's wet stuff running down your face. Your shoulders are grabbed again, but you don't seem to move much. 

"This is bullshit! I refuse to let you burn like some reject pile of shitty twigs from the flammable factory! Not now I'm back, you hear me? You go up against me, or you don't go at all! You die and I'll rip your ghost to fucking shreds!" 

You open your eyes, which is an utterly pointless exercise, but Vriska makes a strangled half-gulp, half-snarl. 

"Oh, thank god, I _hate_ you," she says, and crashes her face into yours. You're not really with it, and it takes you a second of having your lips gnawed before you realize it's supposed to be a kiss. For once in your life, you're not in a state to be thinking through the consequences, so you go with what you want and try to draw blood when you kiss her back. You want to tear her to pieces for everything she's ever put you through, and keep them locked away so you'll always have something to come back to. You hadn't realised how bereft you'd been. Sure, it'd been a relief not to have to worry about her psychotic games, but it'd been so boring. However you presented yourself, however you messed with your suspects, there'd always been something missing. 

You haven't had a real challenge since the day you had a capture order put out on Vriska Serket. 

She's a dreadful kisser, even considering she's trying to cause pain. You get the feeling she hasn't had much practice. There's an awful lot of tongue. It irritates you just enough to make you want to show her how it's done. 

Then she seems to remember the burning console, and starts dragging you by your shoulders. She's barely shifting you and it hurts like hell, but it wakes you up enough to get your arms moving, wrapping around her and stumbling together out of the shuttle door. 

You expect... something when you walk out into the shuttle bay. Security, closed doors, a lack of oxygen, some sort of greeting. But there's nothing. Just darkness and an awkward sort of silence, as if whoever's in charge of running the ghost ship hadn't expected you and has just gone to pour some cups of hot "Stop right there" tea, and slice you some "Get the fuck out" cake. 

She readjusts your arm when you're out, fixing it around her shoulders. You slide your hand down so it's resting on her throat, and she growls and slips her own arm round the back of your neck. You're not really worried. Neither of you has the strength to choke the other, and besides, you're both mostly holding each other up at this point. You think it might be funny to let her hit the floor, but probably not worth it right now. 

"Is it just me, or is it way too quiet in here?" says Vriska. Her voice echoes. 

"Yeah," you say. "Stay alert." 

In your contorted parody of an entwined couple, you shuffle across the floor to where you smell the exit. 

"You were right, we can't be friends, you smug, manipulative bitch," she says, slowly, like she's tasting the words. "So... how about something else?" 

"How about we save the discussions of our dreadful and frankly embarrassing love lives till after we've saved the day?" you say. 

"I... yeah, fine," she says. "Man, I should've known you'd try to make me wait. Is that all you've got? You're seriously low on good moves." She smirks. "I'll have to show you some." 

You roll your eyes but heroically refrain from answering, and steer her out to the main area of the ship. It's black, but then one by one the striplights along the main corridor start coming on. None of the side ways or turn-offs light up, just that one area, glowing disturbingly but deliciously red. You're being shown a path. 

You explain the situation to Vriska, since she has no way of knowing what you smell. 

"It's a trap, right?" she says. "And we're just going to walk into it?" 

There's a clank behind you, and you both jump, though you'll swear till your grave that she jumped way harder. 

"I think that was the shuttle bay door lock," you say. "So yes, there's a trap, and yes, we're going to walk into it." 

You proceed down dim corridors, through a transportalizer. You don't meet a single person, dead or alive. It's just you and Vriska. 

"I wonder if they're still firing on the ship," you say. 

"I don't know," says Vriska. She's frowning. "This is so freaking weird. It feels like my ship, it's like walking around in some shmuck's head, but the shmuck is me. And I don't know what's going on with the systems or anything! It's like being blind or something. Only I'm actually kinda blind, so I guess it's like losing... my sense of touch? Fuck not being a ship." 

"You wanted to get out, remember?" 

"Yeah, but... ugh, this sucks." 

The striplights take you further and further into the ship. Vriska's started panting with every step, and you're getting pretty dizzy. You consider taking a rest somewhere, but the floor wouldn't be worth the effort needed to get you both back up again. 

"Hey, we're almost there!" says Vriska. "Great, I'd have hated to wait around for going to our deaths!" 

"Please," you say, "If you die, I'm sure I can make it efficient and speedy." 

You come to the helms deck. Somehow, you're not entirely surprised. You tell Vriska. 

"So what, do we need the code now to get in?" she says. 

The door to the battle helm slides open. The sound is loud in the stillness. 

"Apparently not," you say, and manoeuvre you both inside. 

There's a kind of deja vu to walking into the battle helm and smelling an all-too-familiar person strung up with bubblegum. You don't react with surprise, because yeah, you sort of knew this was coming. 

"Aradia," you say. "What an interesting surprise."


	9. Chapter 9

hell0!

its g00d t0 see y0u again, terezi!

even if its thr0ugh the security cameras

is that vriska? 

i guess she g0t what was c0ming after all

Vriska's brows are furrowed over the psychic array. "Is that Aradia? Man, I knew those creepy fuckers had to be her work. I knew it." 

You read the messages aloud to her. She scowls. "Yeah, well, at least they couldn't keep me under their thumb! Not like you, still sitting there like a good little computer." 

i havent been under any0nes thumb f0r quite a while

in fact, theres n0-0ne left to c0ntr0l me

It's weird to smell her silent and talking in text, but then you realise that unlike Vriska, she's got no mouthpiece to speak for her. 

"Where is everyone? Did you get rid of them?" you ask. 

n0t really

we g0t int0 a fight with a rebel ship while 0n 0ur test flight

n0b0dy had any idea the rebels had spread this far

we had minimal crew and n0 plan

half 0ur systems were 0ffline

s0 they brought me online and made me summ0n s0me gh0sts

but there weren't really en0ugh s0uls hanging r0und t0 d0 much damage

n0t like 0n an imperial battleship!

then the rebels g0t in a lucky sh0t hit 0ur engine helm and killed s0llux

"Sollux?" You stand stunned, almost forgetting to read the last message to Vriska. When you do, she says, "Captor bought it? Why was that lisping douche even around?" 

they t00k us b0th at the same time

he was the engine helm!

and is also still the engine helm

i w0uldn't g0 t0 see him th0ugh he's s0rt of dec0mp0sing

i t0ld him it happens to every0ne but I think he feels a bit self-c0nsci0us ab0ut it

oh yeah, thank2 aa, ju2t go on about my moulderiing corp2e, why don't you?

"Sollux?" you say. "Sollux, you're there?" 

loud and clear. aa'2 patched me iin.

iit'2 2eriou2ly good two 2ee 2omeone el2e for a change. 

not that aa'2 not great when 2he'2 not telliing me about how ii'm rottiing away iin a harness. 

anyway, ii'm glad at lea2t 2OMEONE managed to 2tay out of this helm 2hit. 

"You're still pretty talkative for a dead guy!" you say. "But I'm glad you're not the boring kind of dead." 

"Still sounds pretty boring to me," mutters Vriska. 

yeah, well, we've got aa two thank for that.

a helmsman leaves a pretty str0ng imprint in the ships c0mputers y0u see!

me included, but s0llux m0re s0

m0st of the time its just data fl0ating r0und

0ccasionally c0ming t0gether en0ugh t0 create feedback issues f0r an engineer t0 stamp 0ut and write a new helmsman 0ver

i just f0und his data gh0st and gave it a push

eheh. you 2hould've 2een theiir face2! maybe we have a log 2omewhere.

hey aa, remiind me two diig a couple up 2ometiime.

after that i just st0pped this ship firing back

until the rebels g0t a sh0t in 0n life supp0rt

"Life support? You just...let them?" 

yes, she writes. 

it wasnt h0w i wanted things t0 g0

but neither me n0r s0llux asked t0 be their ship

i never agreed t0 serve the empire 

Still, that's a lot of people gone at once. Mostly high-ups, probably, on a secret ship like this, but there would've been a few who were just on board to make the thing run. Still, she has a point, even though the delivery sends chills down your spine. You'll have to keep an eye on her. Being unwillingly turned into a machine can't be good for anyone's stability, just look at Vriska. 

However, you're currently splattered with blood in various shades from your own necessary casualties, so you guess you can let it slide. 

after that I turned us 0ver t0 the rebels

f0rtunately there were some 0ld friends 0n b0ard!

"Who?" 

feferi was the captain!

shes g0t kanaya at the base and they're h0ping to smuggle equius and nepeta in s00n

0h karkat and gamzee were there t00

karkat was mad ab0ut the life supp0rt sh0t

he insisted they r0und up the surviv0rs and mar00n them 0n a nearby planet

Vriska snorts. "Figures."

You haven't heard all those names together in a long time. The nostalgia hits you like a brick to the windpipe. 

"So where are they all now?" 

they went back t0 their 0wn ship

we headed 0ut 0n auxiliary power while they were supp0sed to signal a bigger ship t0 t0w us the rest of the way

but then the devastriker appeared while they were g0ne

s0llux and i t00k them down the same way we t00k y0u d0wn

2hot2 two the briidge and engiine helm, riight iin the 2weet 2pot2, blam. 

then using the helmsmans gh0st

we managed to h0ld things t0gether till the t0w ship appeared

by then it wasnt t00 hard t0 r0und up the rest of the crew and mar00n them t00

the battle helm turned 0ut t0 be tavr0s!

so we let the t0w ship take the devastriker back instead 0f us

since were much better in ship-to-ship c0mbat

itll c0me back f0r us s00n

"So, what now?" you ask. 

n0w im g0ing t0 destr0y y0ur ship

"No!" You pause. "Not that I don't sort of appreciate your bloodlust, but this one should be resolved peacefully." 

"I say we let 'em have it," says Vriska. "Let's show those imperial jerks why they shouldn't have messed with us! Battle helms have to stick together!" 

"There are a great many jerks on board, it's true!" you say. "But they don't all deserve to die a cold death in space. Aradia can stick them on a planet somewhere, the same way she took care of the Devastriker." 

im s0rry terezi but i really d0nt think that will be p0ssible

i d0nt like the idea 0f deliberately 0bliterating hundreds 0f lives either

but the t0w ship isnt due back f0r days

and im having tr0uble h0lding 0n t0 b0th ships as it is

if we run theyll sh00t us as s00n as im 0ut 0f gh0st range

its us or them

"What if I can buy you time to get out of range?" you say. 

h0w?

"Unplug you, and plug in Vriska," you say. 

"What the hell?" says Vriska. 

"If Aradia can channel ghosts from here, you can channel the crew," you say. "You won't be able to control the systems, but you won't need to. You can use the lowbloods to pull the highbloods away from the consoles." 

not two poke holes iin your plan, tz, but you realiise aa's the maiin thiing holdiing me here, riight?

"She won't be completely helpless once we unplug her," you say. "She'll still have her powers, she just won't be able to summon tons of ghosts from a ship away. If it's just one ghost on the same ship... " 

that might even w0rk, says Aradia. 

"Excuse me? Isn't there someone you should be asking before making plans?" says Vriska. "Like the MAIN PERSON, for example?" 

"Please," you say, "as if you weren't salivating at the idea of being plugged in again. Your drool is practically conductive fluid for the ship integration cables." 

"That reply is so far from being right, the ship will fucking explode from the mass of errors! Boom! There you go, you've saved the day, are you happy?" Vriska says. "Did you just miss that whole part where I committed the most awe-inspiring act of mutiny the galaxy has ever seen, just to escape that shithole? I hated being a ship!" 

"No, you didn't. You hated being controlled," you say. "You've been moaning about not being a ship ever since I got you out." 

That seems to throw her, but she rallies quickly. "And how am I supposed to trust you not to control me? You think I'll let you get your meddling fingers on my strung-up sack of bones?" 

"I don't have any authority on this ship, dummy," you say. "This is all going through Aradia, working through Sollux." 

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" 

id really like t0 taunt y0u a bit right n0w

but were running 0ut 0f time

s0 let me just say that even if i want t0 i w0nt have the p0wer t0 have fine c0ntr0l 0ver y0u

ill have to c0ncentrate 0n keeping s0llux here

i can b00t y0u up but the rest will be up t0 y0u

"Hmm," says Vriska, once you've repeated the messages. "And you'd both just trust me like that? Ha, as if I'd be dumb enough to buy that!" 

"Please, Serket," you say. "I don't need a computer to bring you down." 

You grin. 

"But if it scares you, I guess it's okay if you back out." 

She leans in and runs a warning hand down your cheek. Her claws scratch. 

"That's your clever persuasion technique? Wow, you must really be running out of ideas." She digs her nails in. "I'll do it, but not because I need to prove myself or anything like that. It just looks like I'm the only one who can save all our bacon. Again. Why am I even surprised? But I'm warning you," she says, her voice dropping, "mess with me while I'm in there, and I'll rip you apart before you can underestimate me again, you smug pain in the ass." 

"Sure," you say, matching her tone and smiling, "and if you try to double-cross us, you'll wish you'd never left your cosy little pile of cables on the Eradicrusher, you villainous criminal scum." 

"You can try," she says. 

"Give me a reason," you say. 

wow, thii2 ii2 really awkward to lii2ten two.

2eriou2ly, ii'm practiically regrettiing beiing raised from the dead.

fiigure2 that ii'd end up wiith thii2 2hiitty afterliife where ii have two li2ten two you two tryiing two blackfliirt tiill my expiired corp2e regenerate2 2o it can vomiit all over iit2elf.

hey, here's an iidea, how about you both cut the biickeriing and get on wiith iit?

"Okay," you say. "Aradia, are you ready?" 

im m0re than ready t0 get 0ut 0f here

"Leave this to me!" says Vriska, pushing you out of the way and leaning in close over the console, so her helmet is almost clinking on the glass. "No-one knows more than me about getting a helmsman out of the system." 

You guide her hand to the correct starting button. "We need her alive and functional, remember." 

Vriska makes a rude noise and starts pressing things. As with the shuttle, once she's in the zone, she's as efficient and exact as you could hope for. Her affected vision doesn't seem to faze her, or the fact that she's never done this with her own two hands before. She operates the systems more on instinct than muscle memory. 

Halfway through, she starts barking out cables. You stand by Aradia and unhook them, feeding tubes and throat first, tugging them out with a lot more care than you showed Vriska. Aradia, if anything, seems to be in an even weaker state, possibly due to the effort of running a whole ship by herself for so long on auxiliary power. More and more, you want to shove Vriska away from the console and take over, maybe tie her up somewhere so she can't try anything, but you can't deny she's doing a good job. It's an odd feeling when you want to brag about your kismesis's skills, show everyone what a high stakes rivalry you have, while also sort of hoping for some weakness you can latch your teeth into. You certainly don't want her to fail, but you wouldn't mind if she made a small error you can mock her for, or maybe let some clues slip about how her own operating system works. 

Eventually, you have Aradia leaning against you, breathing in small gasps and connected only by the cables to her psychic array helmet. 

"I'm going to sever your connection to the ship," you say. "Brace yourself!" 

You take some wires in each hand, carefully unwinding the ones tangled around her horns, and pull. Aradia falls forward and spasms in your arms. She stretches a hand to the ceiling, then lets it drop. She's breathing in small gasps, but steadily. 

"Yeah!" says Vriska. "Man, did you see me there? Imperial processes and coding, none of it is a match for me! You guys are pretty lucky I'm here." 

"Sollux?" you say. "Are you still there?" 

The computer screen stays dark for a long, terrifying few seconds, before finally showing up with mustard text. 

yeah, ii'm here.

that felt liike a clo2e one, though.

can we not do that agaiin any tiime 2oon?

"Aradia, are you okay? Can you hold him?" 

She tilts her head in your direction, her eyes presumably still there beneath the black glass of the array. "Yes. I'm... " she grins. "I'm free!" She holds her hand up, stiff but working, and flexes her fingers. 

There's a bang from overhead. The ship rocks, so you grab Aradia by a shoulder and leave her against a bulkhead, grabbing Vriska and practically carrying her to the limp cables in the middle. She snarls and tries to fight you, but finally settles for trying to plug in all the wires before you can get to them. 

"What's going on?" says Aradia. "I can't... I can't feel it like before." 

"You better get used to it!" says Vriska, feeding something into a socket in the back of her neck. "You had your chance at all these ship senses, don't blame me if you blew it! Tell you what, when we get to these rebels I'll find some chump to build you a new helm. After all, we're both helmsmen now, it's a great way to restart our old friendship!" 

"No-one is putting me in a helm ever again," says Aradia, pushing herself off the bulkhead. "I remember your old tricks. Try your worst! I'll make you pay." 

whoa, aa, calm the fuck down.

can you waiit tiill we're clear of thii2 double-twiisted clu2terfuck before jumpiing riight back iinto the 2tuff that landed u2 in trouble in the fiir2t place?

iif you keep iit up then 2omethiing'2 goiing to go a2hen, and there'2 NO way ii'm stiickiing my diisembodiied no2e iin that 2hiitpiile.

There's another bang. 

"They must have fixed the guns!" you say. 

"I can't run anything else through Sollux like this," says Aradia. "I'm having enough trouble keeping Vriska on. I set a course on autopilot out of here, but they'll stay in range unless you can stop them." 

Another shot. A console behind you explodes. 

"We're out of time!" you yell, ripping cables out of Vriska's hands and sticking them in her helmet. "That'll have to do, just go!" 

"Argh! What the fuck was that for?" she says. the tube for her mouth dangling by her side. "It's - it's too much at once, you're going to blow my fucking head apart!" 

"No, I'm not," you say, leaning in close, right up to her ear. Her limbs are unsupported by the pink tendrils, so you brace her body against yours. She's cool to the touch. "Because I know you, and I know I could shove a whole armada in your brain and it wouldn't bring you down. I sent the imperial drones after you and you found me from the other side of the universe to annoy me." 

She shudders, and traces your hip with her fingers. 

"You'd better believe it," she says. 

A pause. 

"I'm in." 

There's a boom, a monitor flashes and some sparks spit out near Aradia. You're torn whether to help her, you need to hold Vriska up, but Aradia's already rolling out of the way of the electrical fire, even with blisters on her left arm. That's enough to convince you that whatever being a battleship and then not did to her, you didn't break her. 

"I've got control of about half my bodies," says Vriska. 

"Only half? You need to take full control!" 

"Hey, it's not easy doing this, okay? Trying to control a shipload of dorks from this far away is like trying to catch flies by throwing elastic bands until one lands around some wings." The ship shakes, and she slips further into your grasp. "Fortunately, you've got me on the case." 

guy2?

iit'2 pretty hard to feel anythiing at the moment, but ii thiink we just had a 2hot two my auxiliary engine2.

another one liike that and iit'll go through the 2hield2 and leave u2 dead in the water.

"I'm dragging the first officer out of the bridge!" says Vriska. "Ha ha, he's pretty pissed! That's what you get for going up against Vriska Serket in a space fight!" 

"What about their auxiliary engines?" you say. "Can you stop them chasing us?" 

Vriska frowns. "Shit. Someone's barricaded themselves in there. Not one of mine, must be one of the bluer engineers." 

"Oh no," you groan. "I think I know the one you mean." 

"I can get in, but it'll take time," says Vriska. 

"We don't have time!" you say. 

"I've got an idea," says Aradia, limping her way over to the console. "Sollux, I'm really sorry about this." 

aa?

Her body relaxes. The lights flicker. Before you can ask questions, she's jabbing buttons with the sureness of someone who's lived in circuits. Vriska goes limp in your arms. 

There's nothing but silence. 

Aradia's head drops and her fingers slide off the monitor. She sighs like the breath is being drawn from her, then straightens up again. 

"Sollux, are you there? Stop hiding, I know you're practically fused to those circuits! Sollux?" 

"What did you do?" 

"I let him go," she says, looking around her like she might see him, "I let him go so I could take over manually from the engine helm, then I shot out their auxiliary engines." 

"Is he...?" 

"I don't know! I'm trying to get him back." 

you could have giiven me a warniing, fuck.

somethiing liike hey captor! want two diie again? ju2t iin ca2e the fiirst part where you left your body to take a long 2nooze in maggot2ville wa2n't enough for you?

but ii gue22 iit fiits my whole awe2ome duali2m 2chtick, 2o ii can let iit 2liide.

"Quit whining!" says Aradia, grinning. "It was only for a few seconds. A couple, even!" 

You start pulling things out of Vriska's helmet. The cables catch on her ridiculous mass of hair. "Not that I'm not as relieved as anyone to hear we won't have to go the whole journey without the biggest nerd present, even if he is currently a ghost spewing yucky mustard text all over the monitors, but have we lost the other ship?" 

Vriska comes to when you snap out the last cable, spluttering all over you. "Was that a shot coming towards us! Fuck, me! Them!" 

"Yeah, Aradia let go of Sollux and you fainted again," you say. "Angels in another universe exploded themselves with laughter at the sight of your unconscious face. You drooled." 

look2 liike we've lo2t the enemy 2hiip.

eheheh, by the time tho2e douchebag2 put them2elve2 back together, we'll be long gone.

auxiiliiary engine2 are takiing u2 on the autopilot cour2e, moving 2moothly.

you could 2ay...

iin double tiime B)

okay, ii'll 2top now.

Aradia collapses back against a bulkhead, still smiling. You snap your fingers in front of Vriska's face to get her attention. 

"So, it looks like we're both going to join the rebels," you say. "I don't suppose you know anyone who might like to fuck shit up?" 

"I don't know, Pyrope," she says. "You're so fussy about all your precious baby laws and shit. I don't know if I can see you as a rebel." 

You slide your knuckles over her cheekbone. "Maybe the rebels will write new laws. Someone will need to be in charge of dealing out justice in the new world!" 

"You? What if not everyone wants to conform to your pathetic ideas about justice?" she says. "What'll you do, if someone comes up with more awesome rules for running things?" 

"I'll have to hunt them down," you say, drawing in so close she'll be able to feel your breath on her cheek, imagining opening your mouth and grazing your teeth over her skin. 

"Then catch me, if you can," she whispers.


End file.
